Koroleva Rezni (Queen of Scars)
by jozb22
Summary: Forty years before there was a Sun Summoner, there was a Tidemaker who the True Sea spoke to. Tormented by tragedy, she looks to return to the rest of the world, but will the Darkling teach her how to love or how to hate? And once he's through with her, will she ever be able to love again?
1. Child of the True Sea

Nataliya was not a normal child.

By age one she could hear the whisper of the True Sea, the call of the wild ocean wishing her off to sleep.

 **XX**

By the time she was three, and she played in the shallows, she could not understand why everyone became so alarmed when she threw a tantrum about going home at the end of the day.

Storm clouds had been summoned above her head.

They began to call her Inna, from divine water, which was not her name. They called her a Saint.

She did not like it.

It only made the clouds grow, along with her mother and father's worry.

 **XX**

When she was five, her parents had learned enough to keep her out of the village, to hide her from the eyes of those who wanted to take her away. The Grisha looked for power, and if they knew of what was only a few miles north of Os Kervo, they would take what they claimed to be theirs.

No one in her family shared Nataliya's power, and she wondered if the stories that the neighbors had told were true. They claimed that she had washed ashore after a great storm, that she belonged to the ocean itself, or perhaps some beast within it. She figured it was folly, but could not ignore that her hair was light when her family's was dark.

 **X**

When she was six, the old king was beginning to falter, the one with a grey beard and a sour heart, one who lowered the draft age so that her father now had to take her only brother with him to fight.

And the king's son, one with a weak chin and a disinterested attitude would not be any better for her older brother, would not be able to save their broken country.

On the night that he left, she knew that they would not return, and a terrible storm hit West Ravka, one that they had not seen the likes of in a hundred years.

 **X**

By age seven, food was scarce, and villagers stayed away, but all of Nataliya's sisters agreed that she was more beautiful than anyone who they saw in the village.

She asked the sea what it thought, and it responded that it did not care for beauty, so she decided not to either. She began to listen more closely.

 **X**

By age ten, Nataliya began to ask the water nearly every question that she had, and it responded. She learned things many trained Grisha did not know.

It told her of ancient things, _merzost._ and _Odinakovost_ and _Etovost_ , the thisness and thatness, and how the sea did not end where her eyes thought that it did.

That its water was in the very air she breathed, that it was in the blood of men.

That Nataliya could do what she wished of it.

She daily walked from her hut to the sea shore, alone, felt the ocean in her veins, and summoned like no Etherealki before her had dreamed of, taking the water from the air when she was thirsty, learning to see with closed eyes, from where the water in the atmosphere was or wasn't. Sensing life, feeling death.

 **XX**

At eleven years old, she had never been happier. Her father and brother came home to visit, had remarked on her power, on her beauty, on her wisdom.

She asked the sea what it thought, and it replied that it did not care about wisdom or power. That it wanted to do what it wanted, and such things as power simply came to it. Nataliya realized that those things had come to her as well, but that she could not really bring herself to care. She would have been proud, if were she not too busy learning to take the time to become so. Her father and brother left again, but this time Nataliya didn't shed a tear.

 **XX**

At age twelve, Nataliya had stolen the letter from her mother's desk that had made the woman fall into mourning, and discovered that her father was dead, killed by a Shu Han raiding party. She cursed the army and their failings at keeping her family safe.

 **X**

When Natalia was thirteen, the wasting plague came to Os Kervo, and from there to her doorstep. She watched her mother and sisters die at her feet.

Grisha didn't get sick.

It rained that summer like it had never rained before, and most crops were ruined by the cold weather that the country could not seem to shake.

When nothing had been left for her, Nataliya had run away from the people who had come to take her to an orphanage, for she was no _Otkazat'sya_. Not abandoned. Not yet. Her brother was still out there somewhere. She left a note on her old kitchen table for him to find, and lived in a sea cave, where she waited for news of his comings.

Her cave was warm in the winter and cool in the summer, and very homey. She had as much fish as she could eat, and whatever water she needed. There was no light, but she didn't need any.

Because her mind was gone.

It went to dark places, where the thoughts of a young girl should not have to go.

She learned how to cut things in half, finding the water inside of sea slugs, and forcing it into a line that could sever flesh. She could drain the water from plants and animals, killing them faster than they could blink. She could hold her breath for longer than an hour, and often took to diving in the night, even when the water was as dark as pitch, as she could still see by feeling without touching.

After a long time in solitude, she would often get lonely, and speak to the sea. It became harder to hear its voice as she aged, but it was now humans that it spoke of. Everything that was wrong with the world. How the sea always knew the truth. How to find it.

But more than that, it spoke of all of the foolish love that it contained. Couples walking on beaches, swimming in its shores, sitting in boats along its surface. Nataliya knew that her parent's story was one such as these, and when she looked at how it ended, she swore to the sea that she would never love.

She felt that she didn't have to.

But she grew to miss the taste of bread, the sweet cakes her mother would bake for Saint's days. She missed the sound of human voices and the soft smiles of their faces. She grew weary of the dark, longed for any conversation, and in her dreams, she would wish for friends to join her in her solitude.

None ever came.

She was alone, but she had herself. She sang to quiet her bleeding heart, and her voice brought even the sea near to tears. The ocean grew to love her like a child, and she felt it was her only family left.

She never knew if the rumors of her parentage were true, but half wanted them to be, wanted to have _anyone_ left in the world who loved her, wanted to belong to the sea like she had belonged to her own family; the way she now belonged nowhere.

 **XX**

Once a year, Nataliya would return to her old cottage to tend to it. When she had been away from civilization for long enough to forget what year it was, she finally found that her former home was occupied by a half-dead drunk who wore the face of her brother.

He was a wretch, and immediately tried to seduce her, not recognizing her face at all. She was repelled, but could not blame him completely, for the _kvas_ on his breath showed that he was not himself, and the words on his tongue said that he too had gone too far into the darkness.

She chose to stay in her old room alone for a night, to see if she would find him sober in the morning.

On her nightstand, she saw herself in the mirror for the first time in a long time.

What had gone into the cave was what must have been a beautiful girl, but what had come out was a saint-like woman, perfect in her ways, graceful as the sea, with a face that shown the way only one of a Grisha using her powers could. Her hair was long and light, her face pale from hours spent hiding from the sun. Her skin was as soft as silk, and her eyes bluer than the sky when it happened to be in a good mood.

Any sailors who she had chanced upon had called her a mermaid, and now she understood why.

She awoke at sunrise to find her brother already drinking, and spent the day arguing with him to stop. He never relented, and still he pressed her in ways that she did not want to be pressed.

Fighting back with muscles made strong by swimming and skills learned by watching sailors brawl from afar, she turned him out into the snow. When he continued to pound on the door, she opened it again and severed his fingers with a stroke of the Cut, sending him to the nearby city of Os Kervo for help, as she was not about to give him any.

Nataliya knew that they would come for her now. The ones she had hidden from for all her life.

She didn't care.

 _Let them find me,_ she thought. _None of them can match my strength. None of them can contain me._

How very wrong she was.

 _Hey guys! I'm pretty much just posting this so that I can send the link to one of my friends (as soon as she finishes Ruin and Rising*cough cough Taylor cough*). It takes place about forty years before Shadow and Bone, the new king who's about to ascend the throne is Vasily's father, and I have some big plans for this. I'm so excited! Also, disclaimer, my spelling sucks and my writing is still a work in progress as I'm still in school, and have nearly no time for anything beyond getting words on paper. Additional disclaimer, there will be blood and guts and torture and (as mentioned in the title) lots of scars, so don't pass out on me here. Also, it will include Ruin and Rising spoilers. Watch out! Finally, I'm a huge fan of this series (and Six of Crows tbh) and also Leigh Bardugo in general so I hope I can do it justice._

 _PS: I love Nikolai, and I swear we'll get to him soon._

 _Thanks for reading and reviewing!_


	2. Night Vision

He was outside. I could feel him there, just beyond the door, tall and lean; holding his chin up like nobility, breathing evenly with confidence, and, even trudging through the snow,moving with grace.

I wondered if I should kill him. The answer was probably a yes. And I could easily do it. He was coming to take me away. He was Grisha, an _important_ Grisha, and I had been hiding from him and those like him for my whole life.

 _So why didn't I kill him?_

I knew that the sea would have asked me the same question if I could hear it anymore, but it was being strangely silent since this stranger approached.

I could barely make out his fine features, nothing like the color of his hair or eyes, though he seemed to be handsome. But I didn't care about things like handsome.

 _So then what was stopping me from killing him?_

A whisper came from the back if my mind.

 _Maybe you're tired of the alone,_ it nagged.

Perhaps I _was_ tired of having only the sea for company. I knew I was, in fact. I missed having someone to talk to who I could be sure was real.

Well, whether or not I was going to kill him, I should at least let him inside. Not everyone could stand being out in the snow for as long as I could without freezing to death.

As he raised his fist to knock, but I opened the door before his hand connected, putting him off guard. Before he could reply, I spoke.

"If you're going to take me away, please at least come in for a cup of tea first. It must be freezing out there."

He bowed curtly, and stepped inside. He was younger than I had thought, though it seemed like he was much older than he looked; I could almost see the shadows of a past life hanging onto his shoulders, engaged in mystery.

"Thank you. You must be Nataliya."

He knew.

"I am. You must have met my brother."

He was a _beyond_ handsome man, I could tell now, with deep black hair, and quartz grey eyes that glistened in the candlelight.

"No. I met the undertaker who was tasked with thawing his body," he replied, pulling off his thick gloves nonchalantly.

His comment was meant to be unnerving. It wasn't. I knew it would be the fate given to the last member of my broken family when I sent him away. I hid my remorse.

"Either way, you know what I can do," I replied, handing him a glass of snow that I had instantly boiled with my own hands, adding tea leaves from the bundle hung near the window.

"I can hardly guess at what you can do. What I know is that I should try not to get on your bad side," he gave a wry smile. Funny, but true.

"Well, then, what do you want from me?" I asked, cutting to the chase. I sensed that bantering with this man could last for a long time.

"I want you to serve your duty to the king," he requested, as though I was a friend that he wanted a favor from.

I laughed in reply.

"Any due I may have owed _him_ has been paid tenfold by the blood of my family."

"And yet you must serve the draft," he challenged me, raising an eyebrow at my comment.

"And what if I refuse?" I asked, looking into his eyes to show that I was going to.

"Then I'll have no choice but to force you," he smirked.

"Then I'll kill you and then refuse," I replied, sipping my tea.

"I'd like to see you try."

Well then.

He was truly quite handsome, and at once I understood how foolish I was to have made my vow never to love. I had, after all, never grown to know anyone other than my family. Never had the chance even to love. I wanted one desperately now.

 _But not for this man._ There was something terrifying about him, something that scared me. Something that I immediately loathed and wanted to fight.

But that didn't mean that it wasn't fun to play his game.

"And why are you so convinced that I can't kill you? Are you a living Saint?" I asked, sarcastically.

Ravka's Saints mean about as much to me as dirt.

"I think people are more likely to assume that I'm a demon," he smiled. Darkness pooled from his palms, and with a crack like thunder, my sight left me.

 _The Darkling_ , I thought. _How... Interesting._

Immediately, I was curious. I had heard stories, but not for years, as the sea had never spoken of him. My mind reeled with questions.

He stood, as silent as night, and I felt him cross the room. I rose to meet him. As he reached out to brush back my hair, I caught his wrist. He let out a barely audible gasp.

I immediately felt a thrumming power inside of me as his skin touched mine. I ignored the amplifier.

"I'm not afraid of the dark," I smirked, with the confidence that I felt.

"Maybe you should be, then." He whispered. As he spoke, he slid a knife from the sleeve of his _kefta_.

I pulled the water from the air between the knife and my side, and froze it as his hand entered, encasing it and the Grisha steel in ice, letting go of him and stepping back.

The darkness left, and I was the one smiling.

The Darkling cocked his head to the side and examined his ice covered hand. "Interesting. A Tidemaker who makes more than tides."

I released him.

"We haven't yet gotten around the fact that I want to kill you," I replied, taking the topic away from my powers for the moment.

"Want to? Really? I thought it was more of a necessity," he inquired.

"Yes, but I also want to. You won't believe how powerful I am until you see with your own eyes. I want to prove that I can kill you. Or anyone who stands against me. That's what I want."

"Then show me. Come back to the Little Palace. Serve your time in the Second Army."

"I don't want to leave."

"Well, I know that you don't want to stay, either. Beyond the mind numbing loneliness, if you don't come with me now, the entire city will be after you, demanding your death."

"I've hidden before. I can do it again."

It wasn't quite a threat.

"I'll find you." He looked deeply into my eyes. "Nataliya, you've spent far too long hiding. Don't you think that it's time to show the world what you can do?"

If that trick worked on other Grisha girls, it certainly wasn't going to work on me. But I wanted to see the world, and this was the best way to do it, under royal escort, no one hunting me down or calling me a saint. I sighed and looked into his eyes.

"I'm like the sea. I don't do well when someone tries to contain me. I can't promise that I'll be able to stay. But I'll come. At least to see what the rest of the world looks like. But when I leave, I will slip through your fingers like water, and you'll never see me again. Do we have a deal?"

He smiled. "I guess I'll just have to keep you from wanting to leave."

"Then we'll begin in the morning. There are spare bedrooms upstairs. And take off your boots, they're wet," I requested, and once he obliged, I heated them to dry, and cleaned up the pools left behind with the flick of my wrist. I hopped lightly up the stairs.

"Nataliya, wait," he called, just before I made it to the landing and he disappeared from view. "One last thing. Your brother? He's still alive in Os Kervo."

I turned and faced him.

"All that you want from me, and you didn't even bother to properly finish him off? Completely indecent. I hope that's not any indication of what's to come." I replied, going straight to my room and closing the door, hearing his slight laughter from below.

Really, I was more than thrilled that my brother was alive. At least his death wouldn't be on my conscience too. I locked my door and settled down to sleep, wanting to rest before the journey. I had a bad feeling about leaving home, especially with the Darkling.

But there was nothing left for me here, and a world to discover out there.

I only hoped that I would learn how to not miss the sea.

 _Here's another chapter! It's not my best writing, but oh well. I really only get the chance to write in between other things, so I never have time to pretty it up. Anyway, I hope you like! Thanks for reading and reviewing!_


	3. Frost Festival

The morning dawned bright and clear, and we set out through the snow. The first frost had come very late this year.

I had not gone to say goodbye to the True Sea. I worried that it would not have let me leave. Instead, I led the way through the knee deep snow, effortlessly making a path, melting what lie ahead of us.

We made it to Os Kervo in a little more than an hour, stopping at an overlook that spread out the whole city before us, small and dainty, people busily mulling about the streets. The city was a bustling mass, even after a blizzard, as it was apparently the festival of First Frost. I smiled. Then scolded myself for doing so. My younger sisters and I had sworn that our first trip into the city would be together, for this very festival. Now they were dead, and I had only the Darkling for company.

He noticed my melancholy attitude.

"Is it your first time in the city?" He asked, curiously.

"The shore was always enough for me," I shrugged.

"This festival of is one of the best in the country. Still," he warned. "Stay close to me. And try not to make a scene." He reached out for my hand, and I let him take it, my fear of what was coming overtaking my desire to distance myself from him.

I again felt the amplifier, lighter this time, as gloves stood between us; more limited but still power all the same.

As we entered the city while people laughed and danced through the streets around us, I began to realize that they were not looking, not even recognizing that we were there. The Darkling quietly and efficiently navigated the crowds, passing vendors and pedestrians, not stopping for so much as a glance.

"What are you doing?" I asked, curiously, as this was obviously some kind of power of his. I knew that I certainly wasn't the one to have turned us invisible. "I want to _experience_ this, not just look at it."

He gave me a strange look, but relented, slowing his pace to match mine, letting me lead a bit.

People began to smile at me as we passed. I waved back, immersed in my own happiness, taking in the sights, dancing through the snow to the balalaika music. I saw the famous lighthouse, and great domes of a cathedral, a parade led by priests, full of people dressed in bright colors, walking in a line on their way through the city.

Children played swords in the street, and many squares were full of dancing and singing. Great horses ran puling carriages and sleds, and many were followed by dogs, either chasing their masters, or strays searching for a home. As we approached the famed markets, we had to dodge and weave the fish being thrown across the streets to nearby vendors. I stopped to purchase warm _kutya_ for our breakfast, and thanked the old woman selling it as she put a flower in my hair, grown in a hothouse somewhere despite the chill.

"A pretty flower for a pretty girl," she grinned, missing teeth making her look somehow more gruesome than she was. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Darkling smiling. I didn't say anything.

Farther down the road, a man in thick furs and purple silks walked in front of a wide, slowly moving carriage, and we had to move out of the way quickly to avoid the herd of people dodging it.

"Make way! Make way. The royal messenger bears news from the king!"

"Which king?" I asked, curious. The old king had very nearly been dead the last I had heard.

"Alexander the Third. He ascended the throne when you were in exile," the Darkling replied. I figured that he must know the man, as he had come from the palace.

"And what do you think of him?" I asked.

"It is hardly my place to say-"

"It was hardly your place to come all the way across the fold to find me. It was hardly your place to escort me here, but here you are. I get the feeling that you either don't have a place or don't commonly stay in it. Tell me."

He laughed a bit.

"Everyone has a place, but I tend to make the occasional exception. Kings, in my experience are never good. This one seems to be even lazier than usual."

"Exactly what Ravka needs, another fat and lazy king to drive us to ruin," I murmured sarcastically, more to myself, not wanting anyone from the royal milieu to hear and arrest me for treason.

"Just what I was thinking, actually. His doubt may lead to Grisha getting what we want," the Darkling replied, apparently paying more attention to me than I thought he was.

"Which is what?"

"Unimportant. At least to someone who doesn't plan on staying at the Little Palace for very long."

I pulled a face but pressed no more.

"Lets keep moving," I replied.

We pressed on through the city, the festival hindering our progress. The day was just picking up, and it seemed to get more crowded. We moved through a few side streets to dodge the mobs, and I became vaguely aware of someone following us.

"Darkling, do you-"

"Yes. Keep going. Either he'll lose us, or we'll have to kill him."

"What _lovely_ choices," I muttered, the temptation to turn around now nearly overwhelming, since it was forbidden.

"He's a Fjerdan assassin, what other choices do you want?"

"He's after you?" I asked, vaguely confused.

"No. _You._ He probably thinks you're a witch. They burn Grisha alive in Fjerda," he remarked, casually quickening his pace. I prepared to summon.

As we turned a corner, we ran as far and as fast as we could, bringing us to the middle of a square of dancing people. The music stopped, just as the assassin sped around the corner and threw a knife directly towards the Darkling's head.

Time slowed down as I froze the water in the air in front of the knife, making it clatter harmlessly to the ground. In the same movement, with my free hand, I melted and thawed the snow under the man's feet to create a cage of ice around the assassin; bars at least twelve feet tall, wrapping his ankles and wrists in ice to stop him from trying to climb away or throw anything else at us. The crowd froze, stunned, and gaped at the massive structure I'd created in milliseconds.

"He cannot have thees witch," the assassin jeered, enraged, with a heavy accent. "Thees witch belongs to us! The Daughter of the True Sea belongs in Fjerdan waters. I demand that you give 'er to me."

"You aren't in a position to be demanding anything," I snapped back. He glowered.

I turned to the Darkling.

"What do we do with him?" I asked, unsure.

"We could have him taken back to the Little Palace for the Corpralki to practice on," he suggested. The man continued screaming, so I shut him up by freezing the air in front of his mouth.

"Again, _lovely_ suggestion. How do we get him there?" I asked.

"I'll arrange it," he replied, simply. "It doesn't look like he'll have the chance to get away before my men can find him."

"Fine. Lead the way," I turned and realized that the eyes of the entire crowd were on me.

I smiled towards them and addressed them while I still held their attention.

"Ravka has seen enough of Fjerdan treachery. Eat, drink and be merry on this Saint's day, and know that tonight you are protected by the Second Army," I called, thinking quickly as to how to dismiss the crowd.

The sea knew how to hold attention, to be dramatic, to choose the right moments when to crash or to remain silent. I had learned from it that most people were only looking for a good reason to follow someone, and putting their faith in the Second Army (which I was now a part of) seemed like a decent idea at the moment.

The crowd began to cheer for me, and throw wet snow at the Fjerdan.

"And to think I asked you _not_ to make a scene," the Darkling mused.

"I can't be tamed like a horse. And I'd assume that went rather well."

"It did. Perfectly, in fact. But now, every Fjerdan in West Ravka will want to kill you. It's a good thing that we're near the carriages," he replied.

I gave him a sour look.

"I don't like carriages."

"What is it with you and hating things that you haven't tried? If you really want to explore the world, you have to at least give it a chance."

"I have given carriages a chance. The last one that I was in burned to the ground. It was supposed to take me to an orphanage."

"Well, where we're going is at least a little bit better than an orphanage, I should think. And you won't be in it for long. We reach Novokribirsk tomorrow. From there we'll have to cross the shadow fold."

I wasn't concerned by his news. From what I could understand, the fold was full of all kinds of unwholesome creatures, but all could bleed, and therefore be killed. How bad could it be?

The answer: Not at all.

 _Hello! So here's another chapter. Fun stuff. A little bit of Fjerdan action in there. I really love the idea of a frost festival, especially in a port city like Os Kervo. And I feel like they would totally have one of those fish markets that some places have, because of how close to the sea they are. Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing!_


	4. Speaking of Merzost

After a night of rest in the bumpy carriage traveling through thick snow and dangerous ice, we met with the Darkling's other Grisha and the _Oprichniki,_ his guards, in Novokribirsk. The Grisha there watched me with barely hidden curiosity. Apparently stories of what I could do had circulated. They gave me plenty of space, which was more than I needed.

At morning's light, we boarded a sandskiff filled with supplies, and began to travel into the dark.

It was night fallen too quickly, no warning, no sunset. Being smothered by a cool blanket, almost like being in the ocean at night. I stood at the bow like a mast head and felt the nervous energy of the party behind me. While they lost their sight, the crew and passengers began to titter nervously, some praying, others raising weapons to the darkness. They had nothing to shoot at, but I supposed that it made them feel better all the same. I alone had not totally lost my sight, still able to tell where everyone stood; the Squallers raising their hands high to push the sails, the _otkazat'sya_ soldiers strung with nerves and ready to jump at any sound, the Inferni waiting diligently for the command to let loose the light. The Grisha might not have been as nervous as the peasants, but only one person was truly serene. The Darkling stood a few feet away from me, breathing in the cold and quiet air, the ghost of a smile on his face. Strange.

For a while, it seemed that nothing would happen.

The sails rattled, full of wind, but I began to hear something stranger. It was like the sound of the laundry hung out to dry on a windy day, a flapping and rustling, angry and tight sound, flowing with a strange rhythm.

And then they appeared, leathery wings beating almost as one, waves of them crashing through the air, and on the desert sand beneath us.

 _Volcra._

Before the Darkling's Inferni could summon as much as a speck of light, I began polishing off creatures left and right, sensing where they were and slicing them out of the air with the Cut, freezing and boiling their blood en masse, killing off flocks at a time.

The other Grisha and soldiers watched with amazement as I worked with my eyes closed, even when the light of Grisha fire blazed. They marveled at the shields of ice I pulled from almost nothing to defend against the claws of the beasts, to stop the strays that struck at the most inopportune moments.

They began to cheer, before even the light of Kribirsk shown through the blackness in front of us, deck littered with the corpses of the dead volcra.

They were grotesque creatures, milky white eyes and fangs that could rip and tear. They felt unfamiliar and cold, _wrong,_ not meant for this world. I wondered if they were intelligent enough to understand, or if they were just the mindless slaves of the dark.

 **XXX**

It was the first journey across the fold in Ravka's history where not one passenger was injured.

Everyone, even the _Otkazat'sya_ soldiers celebrated in Kribirsk. I was welcomed to join the Grisha feasts, but found that I was instead searching for the company of someone more specific.

I found him in his tent, made of black silk enough to clothe a hundred children who now wore rags.

"Nataliya. You've had quite a day. Why aren't you celebrating your achievements?"

"Because I wonder how long you plan on letting the unprepared cross the fold. These sandskiffs offer no protection whatsoever. It's a wonder that people even cross at all," I replied, not bothering to address him with his title as I now understood all the other Grisha did. _Da moi Soverennyi_. I grew up in a place where titles meant nothing, not to things like the Wasting Plague or the draft. Your death would come, and it would not call you by name when it did.

"The Materialki are working to improve the sandskiffs. And we have Inferni for protection," he soothed. I wondered how many people he had put at ease with those words. Yet, I felt that no improvement was coming. These people were being offered up like lambs for slaughter. They must know it, too.

But from them, I had learned what hope looked like. In the eyes of the soldiers whose lives I had saved, in the whispers of promise from the Grisha. I was their hope. And I could do more for them. For the people, not the lazy, stupid king. Not for the Darkling.

"How else can I help like I have today?" I asked, after a few moments. I could tell that the Darkling was watching me, waiting for my next move.

"Unless you're a Sun Summoner, you can't hope to destroy the fold. You could continue the crossings like the one today. Or, you can come to the Little Palace as you promised and teach what you know. The Grisha there will be sure to listen to what you have to say after this morning."

I thought for a moment. _Why was he so anxious to get me to Os Alta?_

"I will stay for another day and make a few more crossings. Then we can continue as you wish. Surely the Little Palace can wait one day for me?" I inquired, waiting for his reaction.

"We need to arrive in time for the Winter Fete, but I'm sure they can and _will_ wait, if that is your choice."

I smiled slightly.

"I knew you'd see sense," I replied.

Perhaps I wasn't as trapped as I was beginning to think I was.

"Tomorrow, we will cross again, at least twice, and return here. Then we will continue down the Vy to the capitol."

"Must we travel the Vy?" I asked, curious as to how much of a say I had in the matter.

"Maybe not in the spring, but this time of year, we have little choice."

"Just curious," I nodded, explaining my question.

"It's fine," he replied. "Have you eaten yet? Would you care to stay for dinner?"

Pausing, I wondered how what kind of welcome I'd receive from the other Grisha, and decided that I was too tired to deal with them tonight.

"Yes. Thank you."

Over the meal, we spoke of what I knew about the small science in preparation for my studies at the Little Palace. I knew more than many senior Grisha, but most of the words I had learned from the sea had modern meanings, ways that they had evolved.

I even knew of some things that no other Grisha knew.

Then the talk went to _Merzost_. Magic. Abomination. The Darkling brushed over the topic purposefully several times, and I had tactfully and seemingly innocently ignored it.

But he knew.

Finally, I could no longer wait to make my guess.

"Darkling, how old are you?" I asked. My food had long gone cold, and I pushed it around my plate with an overdecorated fork.

"Nearly a hundred. Why do you ask?" He held a glass of _kvas_ in his hand, and leisurely glanced at me.

"If you want the truth, you should begin by telling it," I replied. I drank tea, as _kvas_ was _not_ my idea of a good time. Not after my brother.

"I don't know what you mean," he replied, innocently, a balance of confused and concerned. I felt sure of my ideas, though, his welcoming posture in the fold.

"I know something ancient when I see it," I replied.

Something sparked behind his eyes.

"I know that it was you and not another Darkling who created the fold. So perhaps tell me why, and maybe I shall feel more obliged to speak of the _merzost_."

He sighed with a bit of a grin.

"Nataliya, I don't know why I bothered to take you from the sea. You've been nothing but trouble for me since the moment we met," he smiled. I supposed that he simply assumed that _every_ Grisha was head over heels for him. I _certainly_ wasn't.

"Stop avoiding the question. If you want to continue to live the lie, then tell me so, and I won't pester you."

"You weren't really pestering," he remarked.

"It's a shame I can't say the same of you and trying to change the subject."

He put up his hands in surrender, and I smiled a bit. _Good._ The information that I wanted.

He sighed and eyed me warily; sadness that was too clean to be genuine playing behind his eyes.

"I was experimenting with _merzost_ , trying to find a way to keep myself safe. This world wasn't always so accepting of Grisha, let alone an amplifier like you or me. It went wrong. Terribly wrong. I hadn't known what would happen. I was too brash then, too young to consider the consequences. And by the time I did, it was too late..." He trailed off, lost in thought.

I wasn't fooled for a moment.

It was a lie, or at the very least not the whole truth. His words were too well selected, his actions too clean. But I wasn't sure that I _did_ want to know what he was doing when he created the fold.

I wanted to trust him.

If there was one thing that the sea taught me, it was that our wanting makes humanity weak.

My worst problem was that I didn't care anymore. If wanting made me weak, then I would let it, just this once.

Instead of questioning his motives, I looked at him with a new purpose.

"I'm an amplifier?" I asked, confused.

"Yes. I thought that you knew," he looked surprised.

"No. I hadn't... I'd never met another Grisha before you," I replied.

"Then where did you learn all of this?" he asked, authentically confused this time. Apparently _Otkazat'sya_ weren't able to hold any valuable knowledge.

"You may think I'm crazy if I tell you," I replied.

"Well, I find it impossible to trust anyone who's not at least a little bit crazy," he smirked.

"The sea told me. Since I was young, it's spoken to me. It taught me how to use my power, about _merzost_ ," I brought the topic up to avoid talking about my childhood.

The less he knew, the better.

He took the bait.

"What do you know about magic?" He asked, with a barely concealed enthusiasm.

"Quite a bit." I replied. "Most of it I would like to have forgotten."

"But have you used it? Have you learned to control it?" His tone was even, but his eyes were hungry.

"Control is relative to who's holding the reins. And I have never had the reason to use it. I pray that I will not find one."

He seemed to catch himself getting too excited, and calmed, nodding carefully.

"We will have to speak of it after we arrive in Os Alta."

"I will be happy to," I replied. "Thank you for the meal."

He smiled.

"Thank you for your company," he replied, rising to bow as I moved to leave. "Have a good night."

"And you," I replied, bowing and taking my leave.

I felt his eyes following me until I departed.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The Darkling watched her leave, and let the darkness take him.

She was bright. Not what he had spent an eternity looking for, no Sun Summoner, but sometimes what you weren't looking for was exactly what you needed.

She knew _so much_. Things that Ilya Morozova hadn't written in his journals, things that the he himself had not guessed at.

But still, he didn't have it all.

She was still too wild. Too clever. Too _free_.

And Dangerous.

She was probably the only one outside of Baghra who could tell the truth from lies when it escaped his lips, the only one with the power and the audacity to match him.

And that wasn't all.

He was drawn to her, like a moth to flame.

He wondered if this was the pull that other, lesser, Grisha described feeling towards him. A draw to her strength. He wondered if it was because she was a powerful amplifier, or if it was something deeper than that.

But the time for wondering such things would come later. So would the time for contemplating her delicate features, her somehow pale skin, snowy golden hair, eyes bluer than the true sea... He stopped himself, chastising his thoughts for letting his mind wander. He was far too experienced in what people called love to have such feelings.

She knew of _merzost_ and she could teach him how to wield its power as he never could learn alone.

But she _knew_ him, his treacherous nature.

She had simply _guessed_ that he was really the Black Heretic. She had known his thirst for power, and she had no trust for him, no reason whatsoever to build any.

He noticed that she did not care for him. At least not the way that he (unwillingly) cared for her. She would not be manipulated as so many before her had been.

And so he faced a choice.

First, she could keep her freedom, and he could try to gain her trust, get her to see things as he did. It meant that she could keep her own will, and perhaps grow to love him. _After all, it wasn't just kings who needed a queen._

But, with all of her strange knowledge and inexplicable education, he felt that she would resist his tricks and charms.

What feared him most was losing the Second Army. To her.

The Grisha in Kribrisk already knew and respected her. He feared that they would turn to her if he made a wrong move, and that their loyalties would stray to her ideas. She cared too deeply for the _Otkazat'sya_ , and could speak to crowds, dare he say it, _better_ than he could, sounding not only authoritative, but kind, loving.

 _A living Saint._

She would make a _perfect_ leader, and if it wasn't at his side, then it would most certainly be against him.

Which brought him to his second option.

It was elegant in its simplicity, really. He would cut the problem at the quick, lock her away. Contain her power. Learn her secrets.

Then, she could not stand to challenge him, could not hope to be freed, without helping him get what he wanted.

She would learn to love him, learn to bend to his will, to serve as his queen, or die in chains. He knew that she would not come out the same, if she came out at all, but that was merely the price. _What was one more crime added to his resume?_

He would use the one truly safe weapon in his arsenal of _merzost_ , the one that was useless except to torture. He would tell her to give him the information, and if she withheld it, he would unleash his power against her. It pained him to think about testing it on her beautiful face, but yet...

He thought for long hours about how best to contain her, how to make it impossible for her to summon, how to trap her. Thought of the myths of Ravka, the Sea Whip, Rusalye, that spirited away lonely maidens to his palace under the sea, where they were forever hidden. The too-clever fox, Koja, and the poison the more clever hunter had used to subdue him.

The sun had risen before he realized that he had already made the decision without thinking. But something, perhaps the little humanity that remained of him, chose to still the blade of the ax, at least for a short time.

Nataliya would have a choice. And if she didn't choose him, she would not reach Os Alta.

 _Dun dun dunnnnnn. I'm having a great time writing this. The fold is really an interesting setting, I think, and there was a bit of foreshadoing in looking at that volcra... Well, see you all soon. Thanks for reading and reviewing!_

 _As per usual, thanks for reading and reviewing! Feel free to reach out to me if you have any questions!_


	5. Fitting in & Standing Out

The more I saw of Ravka, the more deeply I fell in love with it. Quaint little towns filled with people, all who welcomed (if not us) the gifts we brought. Beautiful valleys glittered icily in evening sunlight. Even coated in snow and ravaged by war, in my eyes, the country was perfect. I developed a sort of patriotism toward it, accidentally of course, letting it come close to my heart.

But also with its beauty came terrors. Children in the snow with no shoes. Whole villages starving of famine or dying of plague. Wounded and war veterans struggling to pick up a life that they had left behind when they were drafted. Too many young and old to be able to work the fields, all who were able off fighting for their country.

I wanted to help all of them, but there were just _too many._

I did what I could to help ease suffering, delivering supplies I had helped to transport across the fold to every settlement we came upon. I promised to return during the growing season and provide much needed rain. I even gave away my own shoes. The little boy that I gave them to needed them more than I did, and as soon as the Darkling noticed I was walking around barefoot, he found me a new pair anyway.

Wherever I went, whispers followed me.

Whispers came to shouts from the northern border, tales preaching that I was the only daughter of a Fjerdan witch, and that I had been spirited away whilst my mother had been burned alive.

The southern towns seemed to think that I had the blood of a long lost Saint in my veins, that I was meant to do holy works. I did my best to stop these ideas quickly. I still felt no dedication to Ravka's Saints, and I would _not_ face martyrdom as one.

The rumors from the west were that which I had heard for my whole life. That I was born from the True Sea and was gifted with the ancient knowledge of how to use its power.

They didn't know how close they were to the truth.

To the other Grisha though, I laughed these rumors away. Just as I did with those about my relationship with the Darkling.

However much they teased me, I had made friends among the Grisha. My closest was a man named Pietro Nazyalensky, a Squaller, who although was only a year out of training, had white hair. He spoke almost exclusively about his newlywed bride, Anna, but I didn't mind.

I loved hearing a love story that for once, didn't end in tragedy.

After my first night, I dined with the Grisha, and was quickly accepted into the summoner's clique. I rapidly gained the respect of the Corporalki and Materialki as I got more chances to show my skills and mettle along the way.

I even became comfortable enough to sing with them around an Inferni fire in the evening sometimes, when I recognized their (slightly drunken) tunes. I was surprised when they stopped singing the first time that they heard my voice.

"What's wrong?" I asked, confused. Pietro was the first to be shaken from his stupor.

"Nothing," he grinned. "But what's the point of being a Squaller and spending years studying sounds in the air, if you could be a Tidemaker, and sing like that!"

The rest of the campfire broke its silence and roared with laughter. I joined in after a moment.

It was the first time since my family had died that I felt like I was whole again.

The one person who did not seem pleased with my adoption as a Grisha was the Darkling.

Over the slow progress we'd made down the Vy, he'd been a near constant companion to me. He smiled when I was happy, and then disguised his pleasure with impassiveness when I was caught looking. I marked it as a sign of him withholding feelings from me, but I could have been wrong.

I'd warmed to him a great deal, learning his mind and lowering my guard as I saw he meant me no harm.

He'd found me one night, alone, looking out over a valley, that somehow reminded me of him. It was ancient and beautiful, and strangely cold, with shadows covering most of its surface from the full moon.

I was singing a song that I had learned from the ocean, full of ancient words that I didn't know the meaning of, a haunting melody that the valley had somehow invoked the memory of.

I felt his hand on the small of my back, his electric touch, before I heard him coming, and stopped, carrying out a lonely note until my breath gave away, leaving me feeling a chill in my lungs that brought a new energy to me.

"You didn't have to stop," he whispered.

"The song was over," I explained, quietly. _As all of our songs must someday be._

He stood behind me, and looked out over the valley. I wondered what it reminded him of.

He sighed.

"You make this so hard on me," he sighed, his breath a welcome warm on my neck. "Your voice is enchanting. Your beauty; divine. You're a leader, a thinker, a creator. Your talents... They speak for themselves. I can hardly stay away," his voice was cool, quiet, but full of something else... _Longing._

I felt myself giving in to his charm slowly, leaning against him and breathing him in, a smell like the night around me. I turned around and looked into his stormcloud eyes.

"I don't know how you manage it," I whispered.

His smile quirked upwards.

"That's my secret. I don't."

He leaned forward and pressed his lips into my smile, carefully. He seemed more hesitation than surety for once, questioning himself. I was taken by surprise by finding that I enjoyed the taste of his lips, the tentative feel of him. I let it go on for a moment longer than I should have.

When I finally pulled away, it felt strangely like some sort of test, one which I had half-passed.

"Nataliya..." He looked back over the valley. "I thought... I thought I might make you an offer, despite your feelings. For the good of Ravka. Changes are coming for the Little Palace. Important things are on the horizon. Alone, yes, you could accomplish great things, but _together_... Nothing could stop us. If you marry me, we can rule over the Second Army together. With both of our knowledge, we can learn how to destroy the fold. I can make you forget the pain of the life you lost. To learn to love again. I know that you have begun to care for me, and I can only assume that that feeling will continue to grow over time. I'm not asking you to love me, I'm asking you to rule with me. All that you have to do is say yes, and the world is yours. But I want _you_ to make that choice."

Oh, _Saints._

He meant it, too. His eyes were filled with what looked like hope. It was the most inhuman I had ever seen him, with his pale skin shining in the moonlight, he looked divine, like the icon of a Saint, his features thrown into a sharp relief.

 _Saints,_ how I wanted to say yes.

Like calls to like.

We were both leaders, both driven. Powerful. Hiding a darker side.

Certainly compatible.

But then I remembered my dread upon first meeting him, my fears fed by a strange feeling.

I recalled the peasants' stories, telling that he didn't have a soul. His reluctance to tell the truth about the fold. About his life. How even he considered himself demonic. Evil.

I remembered the lessons of the sea.

 _Love sweeps you off of your feet. Do not be swept so far that you will not be able to swim back to shore. Or better yet, do not give your love. Do not be swept away at all._

I knew that I could trust the sea.

I didn't know if I could trust the Darkling.

This was going too fast. I'd only stepped met him a few weeks ago, and already, he wanted to marry me. Wanted to help me forget my haunted past...

 _No._ The word rose up in me, bringing with it full rebellion. I would _not_ marry him. I wouldn't let him so much as kiss me again.

But I had to be courteous. I was under his command.

I took a deep breath and searched for the words I wanted.

"You've come closer to my heart in the past few weeks than you could ever know, Darkling. But I can't accept. My head moves slowly, and until it catches up to my heart, I can't promise myself to any one, or any thing. I'm sorry."

He looked deeply into my eyes, and I watched his hope leave.

His hand drew tighter around my waist.

"Perhaps I can assist your mind in changing," he smiled. It wasn't as charming or clever as it was meant to be.

Again, that small rebellion was set off.

"Nothing can change my me." I replied, coldly, stepping back slightly, as he took his hands from my waist and took mine in his.

"Promise, at the very least, that you will come back to me when you know your mind," he asked brazenly.

I shook my head.

"I can't make a promise that I don't know I'll be able to keep," I replied, just as boldly.

But, _Saints_ , I felt awful.

He took a deep breath.

I found myself preparing to summon.

"I understand," he nodded, making me relax. "Just remember that I have the ability to wait for a _very_ long time, and if you change your mind, I will still be here for you."

"Thank you," I replied. Having lived in a cave for the past five years, I had no clue as to what else one would say to a statement like that.

"Always," he replied. Looking not at the moon or the stars, or the valley of shadows, but at me. I knew that my mournful gaze only weighed him down more. He bowed deeply and returned through the woods to the camp.

I was left with the strange feeling that I had somehow failed myself.

But the only one I'd really failed was the Darkling.

 _Anddd there you have it. The last happy moment before it all comes down in pieces. Thanks again for reading and reviewing! Love you all!_


	6. The Last Supper

There were plans to be set in motion, people to threaten, a country to run, a girl to kidnap, an army to lead, and yet all the Darkling could manage to do was stew.

He was _livid_.

 _No one_ rejected him. It was all he could do to stop himself from cutting his tent to shreds.

And here he had been trying to _spare_ her.

 _Just goes to show how far mercy goes, as opposed to action._

He allowed his temper to cool.

In her rejection, he'd found the conviction to do what he had to.

There was work to do.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

I had wine with my dinner that evening, as the other three of the most important Grisha were eating in the company of the Darkling and myself. It was the last night of our travels before I reached Os Alta. They took their meal with _kvas_ , and I'd considered doing the same. I'd needed something stronger to stomach the regret I felt towards hurting the Darkling, even three weeks later.

 _But I shouldn't feel anything at all._ I reminded. _My life is more than just someone else's feelings._

Conversation stayed busy, and I engaged as I usually did.

Hurt feelings were no reason to stop voicing my opinions.

The Darkling was casually watching me throughout the meal.

Come to think of it, everyone kept glancing at me as though I was about to spontaneously combust.

"Nataliya, do you feel ill?" Pietro asked me.

I realized with a start that I was drifting off to sleep despite the fact that I was well rested and that it was barely sundown.

"No, I just- _oh_." I stood, trying to clear my head, and noticed that Pietro's glass was full. They all stood with me, quickly, alarmed.

 _But why-_

As the realization dawned on me, I looked up at the Darkling.

"I'm sure you've heard the story of the too-clever fox, Nataliya," he said, with his smile continuing to his eyes.

His _empty_ eyes.

"Dropwort. How very clever of you."

I could feel my arms and legs falling asleep at my sides, but I stayed standing. He motioned for the other Grisha to take hold of my hands so that I couldn't summon. I was shaking too badly to stop them.

Pietro had the decency to look guilty. I needed more time to think.

"Clever but cowardly. Will you use my bones as an amplifier? Or are you full of nothing but petty rage? Tell me, Darkling. Why kill me now? Why not let me _fight_ for my life?"

He approached and put his hand against my cheek. I still had enough strength to pull away. I heard a sharp inhale.

Good. I hoped he _was_ angry with me.

"Oh, _Nataliya_."

The way he said my name gave me shivers. "I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to do something much, _much_ worse."

I seized my opportunity, raising not my bound hands but my free feet, summoning the Cut and aiming for his chest. With a slash of ice and a crack like a whip, he stumbled back.

The Darkling looked at me with a rare surprise, as deep red blood drained through his ruined kefta.

I wish I had managed to stay awake longer, but I only heard his silent and vengeful statement, as he bled out before me.

 _"Lock her deep below. She'll never know sunlight again."_

 ** _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_**

"And for Saint's sake, find me our best Healer. I don't want a scar left by _her_."

"Da, _Moi Soverennyi_." The Heartrenderer ran out, and the Darkling collapsed into his throne as he watched the other two Grisha carefully bind her hands _and_ feet.

No other Grisha in the world could have done that. Had the power of the skill to summon the Cut with anything other than their hands.

 _Damn that girl._

 ** _XX_**

 _Obviously I've read the Too Clever Fox along with the rest of the fairytales that Leigh wrote, and if you liked the Grisha series enough to read fanfiction about it, then I'd recommend you do the same. Really just beautiful works of art. Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing! Love you all! xx_


	7. Dead Fox

_*WARNING: Some pretty graphic torture ahead, combined with sharp and witty sarcasm. Read at your own risk._

My dreams were troubled.

A thousand images of the miserable childhood that I had tried so hard to forget.

A soft woman's voice singing quietly, then pleading, then screaming.

A set of red eyes, glaring through everything, angry and vengeful, hateful of all of humanity, save for one girl.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxx**

My real life was far more troubled than my dreams were.

When I came to, I found myself in an underground cell with vaulted ceilings, containing a table featuring some books, and a large selection of knives. Very sharp knives. I reached out to take one, and realized that I was strapped down hand and foot to a chair, chains too small to summon while wearing. The hard wooden chair was far too large for me, and had a straight back. A sort of throne.

Also in the room, there was a fairly large bed, and an empty bucket. A mirror on the door to my left showed my reflection, wary and weary.

The clothes I was wearing were strange to me, but something was familiar about them.

Their smell, the soft breath of Night. As I craned my neck to see them better, I realized that they were completely black.

Oh.

Something stirred from the far end of the room. A flash of silver hair.

"Pietro?" I asked. "Come into the light," I called. He stepped forward, head bowed almost as though in prayer. He was crying silently, tears shining in the dim torchlight.

"He left me here to fetch him when you woke up. Nataliya-"

"No. I don't want to hear your pity. Or apology. I thought that I had friends. I thought that the Darkling wasn't completely mad. I thought that I could keep myself safe. Hell, I could have stayed home and not ended up here. Could have killed him any time I pleased. It was my ambition that brought me here. But stop crying, and let me out so that I can kill him properly this time."

Pietro took a deep breath and the air in the dungeon moved with him.

A Squaller's habit.

"I can't. I owe him everything. Nataliya, you know how it is in the world. Grisha are killed wherever we go except for here. I have Anna to think about. He knows that. If I were to disobey an order from him... He would do worse than kill her. We hope to someday have a child, or many children. We could not live on the run with them. The Darkling does not control our lives. _He_ is _our lives_." Pietro spoke with some kind of dedication, but also with true terror. The Darkling controlled his Grisha not with respect but with fear. My heart plummeted as his words sank in. I would not have any help from Pietro.

"I understand. So I can't look to the Grisha again?"

"Not while he is strong. And he is always strong."

"But where am I? Tell me that at least," I asked.

"The Darkling had these chambers constructed away from the king's prying eyes. It is here where his chosen victims meet their fate. I pray that you tell him what he wants so that you might come out alive." Pietro looked at me for a promise to stand down. When all I did was clench my jaw, he sighed. "I must go now. But Natalia-" he looked up into my eyes. "Know that I would have followed you, if I truly had the choice."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

She looked nearly asleep again by the time he had prepared himself to see her. He wanted to make sure he showed her no weakness, no sign that she had nearly killed him.

When she picked up her head, he was surprised to see her smirking.

"What are you smiling about?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Nothing," she replied hotly, dropping the look. Being difficult already. He should have expected so much.

"No, I _insist_ ," he replied, gently placing the stack of journals he was carrying on the table next to his knives. She sighed.

"I was right about you. When we met, I sensed something-forgive my pun- dark. And now here I am, locked up in some barbaric torture chamber."

"You put yourself here," he replied.

"Ah, yes. But how did I lock up the second arm? That's been bothering me. There's simply no way to get oneself strapped to a chair like this without some kind of help."

He nearly rolled his eyes.

"You know what I mean."

"I know that you're a sadistic homicidal maniac. Does that count?" Her voice was sarcastic and jiving, angry with him.

"Keep up your good mood while you can."

"I intend to."

"Would you like to start telling me about what you know now or after I work with the blades?"

She gave no reply.

"After, then."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

He looked at the set of Grisha steel for a moment. Seemingly making his selection, he gingerly lifted it from the case, his long fingers elegantly twirling it as he approached.

"You very nearly left me with a scar," his voice was the same as it had always been.

Why it had taken me so long to see the monster behind it was perplexing.

"I meant to," I replied. _Meant to kill you._

"I intend to leave you with more than just one."

"As do I."

He smiled cynically.

"You know that I've already used poison, but this, this is more than that. It is more than just the dark. It is _me_. My power made a gift for you." He let the words sink in. I didn't so much as blink.

"When I cut you, your skin will never really heal. Not as mine has. You will bleed quickly, and be left ugly, like the _otkazat'sya_ you are so fond of."

He showed me the knife, and as I watched, shadows formed and clung to the blade like a dark blood.

"This can be prevented. Tell me now of _merzost_ , and your beauty may be spared."

I remembered his mention of a story earlier.

"You know the story of the too clever fox, yes? _'I can bear ugliness. I find the one thing I cannot live with is death.'_ "

"That too will find you soon enough."

I thought that nothing he could do to me could possibly match the pain of what I had already been through.

Again, I was right.

He went to work quietly, beginning with the base of my neck. Kissed me softly, making my skin charge, and at the same time repulsing me.

I couldn't so much as pull away.

I kept my tongue, not wanting to insult him while he held the knife to my skin, though my stomach twisted as he traced his fingers along my collarbone, choosing where he would put his blade.

The knife came next, following where his long fingers had been a moment before, cutting smoothly and delicately, in tiny spots, pricks or slashes, bringing the deepest, slowest, most terrible agony that I had ever felt. It was more than a blade, more than poison as he had said. The darkness bit into me like frost and pushed into my bones, making them scream in pain. They felt brittle, like they were now made only of shadow. _Made of him_. Pain, sorrow, unloved rage.

But it was nothing compared to the pain of my heart, of what I had lost so far, which made it bearable.

I couldn't help squirming, though I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of screaming as I wanted to.

"Be still," he quieted. "I want to keep my work as clean as possible."

The blade was cutting once again, though I couldn't help but move, ignoring his requests, my head flying up heavenwards, my heart pounding in my ears, tears streaming down my face, my teeth grinding together.

He carved on for more than a half an hour, stopping to step back a few times and take a look at his work from a few steps away, letting me catch my breath. Then he moved on, his hands moving as smoothly as an artist with a paint brush.

By the time he'd finished, I was no longer crying, nor holding my breath and wincing as the steel dipped into my skin.

It was pain, but it would go away. My dead parents would not. Nor would the little sisters that never got to grow up, or the brother turned to drink by war.

 _His torture was nothing to me._

"You will be my mine yet, Nataliya. I will return tomorrow."

With that he left, my blood covering him.

The mirror showed that my face had gone pale, and my eyes were red. My collarbone was more blood than skin, and there were spots of darkness covering the little flesh that I could see through the gore.

I had hardly taken the time to consider bleeding to death, when the door opened and a girl stepped in.

She wore Corporalki red and the colors of a healer, probably not more than fifteen. Her hair was the same pale blonde as mine, pulled up into a braid.

She approached and began to clean my wounds with a strongly smelling cloth. Her hands shook as she dabbed at me. When I winced, she looked like she wanted to back off, instead gritting her teeth to continue.

"He's punishing me." The girl whispered, almost like making small talk Her comment seemed almost... Proud?

Her hands moved clumsily (though I supposed everyone's did after watching the Darkling's for so long), like her arms weren't working right. Like she was purposely doing poorly.

"Well I suppose we have that in common." I said in the best spirits that I could. She giggled.

"I messed up my healing. Badly. Like I mess up everything. So he sent me down here. To tend to the ones he tortures. The ones who don't have to be pretty, just kept alive."

"Well I never really cared for pretty. Do your worst."

She giggled again.

Strange. I got the sense that she wasn't all there. But she was the only healer that I had.

As the blood was cleared, she placed a hand on my shoulder, and I felt the itch of her healing.

She stepped back.

"Oooooooh. He did a lovely job with you."

I looked in the mirror and gasped.

Above the line of the shirt, clearly stood my collar bone.

I tried to reach up to touch it, but instead remembered my bound hands.

The scars followed my skeleton, and despite my squirming were smooth, highlighting my bone structure, my perfect, smooth skin now interrupted by slashes and spots, forming a thin and ornate pattern not unlike lace. It suited my body very well, the black even matching beautifully with my hair.

But I wanted to be sick.

This gruesome tattoo of scars was the pain that he had inflicted upon me, the torture that he had wrought. It was my freedom gone and his mark seared permanently into my skin, the show of how he had claimed me and that there was nothing that I could do about it.

I wanted to scream again. Instead, I swallowed.

The little healer looked unconcerned.

"You're lucky that it isn't too bad." She whispered, sensing my disdain.

I nodded slowly.

 _The sea does not care for looks. Neither do I._

"Come. There is much for me to do." She unlocked my chains from the throne with the key ring along her belt, and helped me to the bucket and then into bed, securing my wrists and ankles to the bedposts.

"What's your name?" I asked the girl as she used a rag and water to clean some of the dirt and sweat out of my face.

"Emiliya. Call me Emmi," she offered.

"I'm Nataliya. Thank you for what you did for me."

"Any other healer would have done better."

"No, not for the healing, although I am thankful for that. For helping me get through it."

She realized what I meant and nodded, until she suddenly stopped and looked up at me blankly.

"Getting through it will only get harder. Nataliya, he _wants_ you. Whatever your reasons for hiding something are, you must tell him. For Saints' sake, you've got get yourself out."

"I can't. If he learns what I know, he will have the power to control the world. I am all that stops him."

She looked at me with big brown eyes.

"And besides that, he will _still_ want me even if I tell him all that he needs to know."

She frowned briefly, an expression that did not suit her pretty features.

"I feel bad for you." And with that she left.

I got the sense that she wasn't being completely honest.

 _Did anyone catch Pietro's last name? Just curious. Also, torture, which is always loads of fun to write. Hope you like. Thanks for reading and reviewing! Byee!_


	8. Pray

When he came in the next day, he seemed to be in a thoughtful mood. I noticed immediately from my throne, still bound, moved again that morning by the healer.

"What? Managed to kill another thousand people?"

"No." He replied, simply, beginning to page through the journals on the table. "I just spoke to your healer."

"And? What?"

"She said that you _like_ the scars."

"Perhaps not what they mean, but yes, they suit me well, and make for a good reminder." I wasn't sure why, but I distrusted Emmi. If she said I liked them, then what was I asking for by agreeing?

"Hmm." Was his only response.

"Perhaps, in fact, I should thank you. I hear tattoos are very costly nowadays. Especially beautiful ones."

"I could do something less... _pretty_ ," he suggested.

"Do what you like. I told you, my beauty doesn't concern me. I might as well be blind," I replied.

"Don't tempt me." Then he seemed to get an idea.

The shadows crept forward from the corners of the room in his excitement.

He went to the books he had brought the day before and opened quickly to a very worn page.

"I know almost nothing of _merzost_ ," he smiled slightly.

"But almost nothing is not the same as nothing. Tomorrow, I will show you what I have learned to do by my own devices. I will leave you here to wait and wonder for a night what I could possibly have in store for you. I find that I'm impatient when it comes to anticipation. Simply can't stand it."

I felt a flash of fear. _What did he know?_

"Good bye, Nataliya." He kissed my temple, and turned to leave.

"Darkling," I called after him. He paused and turned. "Do you know what it costs?"

"Do you know what you have already cost me? A little bit of magic will be nothing compared to that."

He slammed the door.

The abomination was coming.

Tomorrow.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Do you know what he's planning?" I asked when Emmi came in a little while later to put me back to bed.

" _Yes._ " A whisper.

"But you won't tell me?"

" _No._ " Again, quiet as a mouse.

"Why not? It will happen anyway. And I have enough patience to wait for one evening."

"No. I will not say."

"Emmi. Please."

"No. I will not tell you, because I want you to fight. If you know what he wants to do to you..." She shuddered. Behind her eyes, I saw her reliving memories. Something that made her flinch.

"I will still fight him, no matter what you want." I professed.

"You may. But if I tell you, you will fight him bearing the sorrow of what comes. It will be terrible. He has been angry with the king lately, and he does his most horrific things when he's angry. You will learn soon enough. Now, go to sleep. It may be the last chance you get for a long time."

"I'll try."

"Do more than just try," her eyes were full of...Excitement? Hunger?

 _"Pray."_

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Did you sleep well?" The Darkling asked the next morning, sitting on the edge of Nataliya's bed.

"Excellently. How is the King? You simply must send him my regards. I hear he's doing an excellent job running the country."

He smiled, a bit amused by her sarcasm, hiding his distaste for the monarch. His anger did not cause him to move away, which disappointed her.

She just wanted him off of the bed, figured that there must have been a reason she was left _there_ for him, but she hoped that she was wrong.

"Your Healer says that you do not fear what I can do," he challenged.

"I fear nothing." It was truth to his ears.

"You will fear me when I am through with you," he replied, reaching out to stroke her soft, blonde hair, combed by the healer. Her breathing faltered.

"You will never be through with me at this rate," she replied coolly.

"Well, then I suppose I should pick up the pace," he smirked.

" _'A long journey is best made slowly.'_ "

"If the journey ends in your death, then it won't be a very _long_ journey, will it?"

"Who says that the journey ends in my death?"

" _I do._ You will beg me for it, come time," he caressed her cheek, and she looked like she wanted to pull away but held firm.

"Begging is for cowards," she replied stiffly.

"A coward isn't _all_ that you will become."

She watched his eyes fell upon his handiwork, her skin scarred by his blade.

It was both hideous and lovely, and filled his eyes with a look like wanting.

He smiled.

"Shall we begin?"

Her whole being tensed in anticipation, and she found herself wishing to everyone and everything that she knew that she could get out, that she could summon again, that she could kill him.

He smiled with something that might have been pity, but did not move from his position next to her, lifting his hands.

A shape began to form in his palms, this darkness different from the rest that filled the room. It was fluid, squirming with a life of its own, held just where she could see it.

Building it had seemed to take all of his strength, and for a moment, in the candlelight, he looked more haunted than usual, his face pale, his eyes and veins blackening.

When it was the size of his palm, he laughed in triumph.

She felt that it must have been the color of his soul.

 _If he had one._

It squirmed and attempted to break free from his grip.

"Using _merzost_ takes up a part of the person using it. I'm more than glad to give this part of me to you."

She could feel her pulse in her ears as his hand lowered, until it was centimeters over her heart.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx**

He tipped his hand and the darkness met her skin. For a moment, it floated on top, a pearl of black on a sea of white.

She whimpered in pain.

Then he reached down and _pushed_ it through her skin. Into her heart.

She gasped.

Slowly, the darkness spread, blackening her blood, veins a web of darkness, her skin flooding pale. She coughed and scrambled for air.

He had wondered what the exact effects would be. Now he watched with interest.

She began to shake, and her breathing became more labored.

Her eyes were glued shut, and it looked to him like she was putting forth an effort to fight him off.

Then her eyes flew open, unfocused, like she couldn't see anything. The convulsing stopped, leaving her abruptly still.

Her pupils dilated suddenly, and her focus was finally on him. They were full of fear.

"What did you _do_ to me?"

She lost focus, and screamed for the first time.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The Darkling had loved her voice. It was beautiful and ancient, something untouched, as he was, by time. It was the breeze on a warm day, the light of a fire in a snowstorm, finding a way to be perfectly what you needed in the exact moment that you needed it.

It was gone.

In its place was a noise of pain and desolation, something that did not jar his spine or make him jump, but held something deeper. It bombarded him with dredged up loneliness and dread, with untainted misery, something that made a deep part of him beg for death, that made him want to lay down and cry. It made him feel pain in a new way, a pain that dulled his thoughts and made him question everything about himself.

It stopped and started again as she drew breath, and as he watched her, captivated, her limbs began twitching as her fingers and feet elongated, her nails becoming talons.

Her back arched over the bed, and she shook worse than ever, as her skin broke open painfully, and grotesque black wings erupted from her shoulders, like great panes of stained glass. Leathery, completely unlike that of a bird.

Her teeth gnashed as they stretched into fangs, black blood filling her mouth as her gums split.

Her hair fell limp and sweaty, and a deep wave of raven fled through it, making it into a halo of darkness.

Streaming tears, she couldn't stop crying, black blood making a path down her face, surrounding the panicked, bright blue eyes, the last part of her that was herself.

He met her gaze as they widened one last time, before the darkness came for them too, drowning out what was left of her with a blank black gaze.

The screaming changed to shrieking, something inhuman, as the pain and suffering stopped echoing, in its place a primal drive for escape. She pulled against the chains, but they were too strong.

Nataliya was an animal now, purely a monster.

However, she still looked like herself.

He was still enchanted by her beauty, but at the same time, her twisted, dark form turned his stomach in a not entirely unpleasant way.

 _She truly belonged to him now._

His experiment was a success.

He reached out a hand to stroke her face, and she tried to bite him.

" _Ah ah ah._ No, you don't," he scolded.

The words had no effect on her.

He placed his hand on her cheek where she tried in vain to shake it off, still snarling and snapping her teeth. After a few minutes, she grew tired of fighting, and silenced, merely shivering like an untamed animal under his palm.

Her heart beat was rapid, and her breathing ragged and wild.

But now, there was no Nataliya left to torture. And what was the point in that?

He focused on the darkness inside of her and called to it, drawing it to him. He was met with some resistance.

It was harder than normal summoning to control _merzost_ , apparently.

The darkness slowly pulled from her mouth, a swirling black cloud.

She sputtered, and began to moan and cry out in pain, her voice human again, now raw from the screams.

With the darkness, came her deformities; the claws, the teeth, the eyes, the wings.

Her formerly blonde hair, however, stayed as black as his.

 _A good reminder._

Eventually, the changes stopped, and she was left breathing hollowly.

The darkness in his hand was a physical thing, and he did not let it touch his skin. Nor did he destroy it. Instead, he put it inside of a small bell jar on the table.

Once it was contained, it shifted into a vaguely human form, with a hunched back, claws and dark wings. The jar shook where it pounded against the glass. The figure then changed back into the swirling cloud, and back to the beast again. It couldn't seem to choose a form.

The Darkling turned away from it and back to Nataliya.

She looked ghostly, still a Saint, but now one _after_ her martyrdom.

"How was it?"

She didn't answer, just closed her eyes and whispered the same words repeatedly, too silently for him to hear, maybe a prayer, shaking her head.

"That bad?"

Her blue eyes flashed open, trails of cried blood still fresh on her cheeks.

Her expression was full of a burning hatred.

"At least I'm glad I haven't told you how to properly use it," she spat, gruesomely, her teeth full of blood.

He laughed a bit.

"Well, you can tell me now, or the same thing will happen tomorrow. And the next day. And the day following that. I will let it possess you for longer and longer and longer. You will feed, eventually, on raw flesh, and learn to treat me like a master, the way a dog would. You will tell me, or become mine. Become a monster for eternity, or give up your secrets."

He paused to let his meaning sink in. "I don't want to have to hurt you," he said quietly, searching her eyes. "But you make this so hard on me."

His words were ones once used to compliment, but now they were used to mock.

"You make it hard on yourself," she replied.

"I may. But either way, I will leave this here for you to watch tonight. I'll see you again tomorrow. Good bye Nataliya."

"Saints save the King," was her reply.

As it was for every night from then on.

 _Some pretty dark stuff, what with the merzost and terrible things like that. Lovely to write, though. Thanks again for reading and reviewing! xx_


	9. The Darkest of Times

Everything was pain.

From the first moment every morning when the abomination touched my skin to the moment when he drew it from me.

But it was not like the pain of torture that I had learned to live with.

It was not something that I could compare grief to, nothing that I could push past, because there was nowhere for me to go. I could not escape the nightmare of my mind. I was forced to remember every horror that I had longed to forget, all the while looking out of the eyes of a beast.

I had consumed raw meat for the first time weeks ago, but each day since, I could feel it sit in my stomach when I changed back.

I remembered my hunger for it, the way I _craved_ it, how I wanted to stick my claws in and shred the flesh, consume more.

 _Rip, tear, kill._ The body of the monster wanted more of everything. Always, _always_ more. It was hungry and primal and I couldn't stop myself from thirsting for blood.

I felt disgusted when I came back, face covered, red and sticky, but there was nothing I could do. I had no control over my body, though I fought against the creature. But it came with a strange power, a strange glimpse behind the veil. To let go of the world and be free of worry or responsibility. To do what I wished within my bonds, to not care about who I was or what my past was. I was happier, indefinitely happier when I was the beast.

But I could tell it was _him_. Not just a beast, but darkness itself.

It was him and he was it, and it was me.

 _Like calls to like._

Sometimes I heard him speak to me through the haze of the darkness, although I couldn't always understand.

What I could though, was that some part of me, the part most damaged by his power, was beginning to give in to him.

He could get closer now without being bitten, my body eventually allowing his gentle touches, pushing my hair back, or kissing my cheek.

 _And part of me liked it._

The scars didn't bother me. The idea that I was now just like the _volcra_ that I had seen that day on the fold made me feel worse. Broken. Terrifying. _Unnatural._ The split fingers and toes, the places where flesh made way for wings, and teeth made way for fangs. But the ever-cheerier Emmi had to heal me again every day when the Darkling finished with me.

Well, not every day.

I was now spending two days a monster, and one day a girl.

Once the Darkling left after Changing me into darkness, the beast would do nothing but sit and whine and wait for him to return.

I waited for a way out.

But none came.

No weapons, no Saints blazing holy fire, no magical escape rope.

I was alone, and I was lost.

My nights were spent as a girl, staring at the bell jar filled by the Abomination. When he left, it pined for him, fought against the glass, scraping claws of shadow. It faded greatly as he grew farther away, seeming to lose power as it became more distant from him. That gave me hope that if I could get out, it couldn't follow me unless he did too.

I dreamed of escape, spending my days wondering what I should do. Always resolving not to give in.

Still finding no better option than to face him every day, even though I knew that there was no way to win.

Not against the Darkling.

Emmi brought with her news of the world, though it was always delivered to me with pure contempt, which I found strange.

Still, I appreciated it. The knowledge that a second son had been born to the queen (and that perhaps he wasn't quite the king's). That crops were doing better than the usual terrible this year, as rain had come early. The news that Fold crossings were now being made regularly. That the Fjerdans were thought (by the people of Ravka) to have taken me, and none of the Grisha really believed that.

"Many of them say that they would have followed you." She said, one day, while she cleaned the scraps of animal blood from around my mouth with a warm cloth. She sounded grim and angry, and rubbed harder than she needed to, chafing my skin.

I just sighed, feeling myself fading more and more with each transformation, my will and humanity leaving me.

"I would have followed me too, back then," I replied to her. "It's a shame that there isn't enough of her to lead us any more."

I couldn't see her smiling on the way out, but I could feel her satisfaction in the air.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Nowadays, he wasn't met with harsh words, save for her habitual comment praying for the king at the end of the night.

No, she was too tired for banter. Too... _broken_ , perhaps.

She'd only met him with a glowering gaze, and lately she wouldn't, _no,_ _couldn't_ force herself to so much as look into his eyes.

Today marked the first day that she showed something like concession, and she hesitated, if only for a moment, when he made his usual offer.

Her life for secrets of _merzost_.

She could stop this torture any time she pleased.

But again, she refused, though he noted her reluctance.

She was breaking.

He Changed her, watching her eyes, always her eyes, as they faded to black. He stayed with her for a moment, and then moved to depart, kissing the top of her head before he went.

The strange noise the creature now nearly always made as he touched her had worried him at first, until he realized that she was purring.

 _Like a cat._

He stayed with her for a few minutes longer than usual today, and then checked his reflection before leaving, making sure that he hadn't gotten blood on his _kefta._

He had, and cursed merrily on his way out.

She started crying after him, until she saw the looking-glass.

The creature searched her reflection for a long time, long enough for the Darkling to move far, far away.

Saw the claws, the wings, the teeth. All of it.

And then, for the first time in nearly three months, she got control.

She sat up straight, pushed back her hair, and stopped the lonely whimpers.

She was as near to free as this broken body had ever afforded her.

All the rest of the while, the nearly three days that he was gone, she practiced her control. Soon she had accepted the monster, and had pushed it aside, for compared to all the light in the world, what was this small darkness inside of her? She accepted her shattered body, still beautiful despite the scars.

Wings. When she was a monster, she longed to fly with them, and when she was human, she loathed the thought of wanting to be the beast, even if it meant that she could escape right to heaven's doorstep.

But now she had herself back, and that was all she needed.

Because if she had herself, she had hope.

And if she had hope, she could make a plan.

 _So, there goes another chapter. Kinda sad that all the dark torture stuff has to leave soon. Really tragic. Thanks for reading and reviewing! xx_


	10. Salvation

I had spent four days as _it_ , and a half day as myself.

Only a half of a day without being a monster before the time had come again.

When the Darkling came to Change me, I was crying silently.

I let him dry my tears, even hold me for a while until my sobs stopped.

"You've never cried before," he replied gently.

"I've never been brought this low before," I replied, through my tears.

"It's never too late to tell me," he encouraged, gently.

"No. That will just make it worse," I snapped.

"No it won't. You'll be free to go," he bargained.

I looked up into his quartz grey eyes and quickly shied away from contact. He silently turned his head to the side in curiosity at my chagrin.

"It's too late for me to be free," I sighed, disgusted.

"Why? I thought you felt no pain. Feared no evil." His voice was meant to be indifferent and mocking, but a hint of something else was in it.

Curiosity.

"It's not pain that I feel. It is _worse_ than pain," I lied. My plan was coming along smoothly.

"Then I suppose my torture worked. What could possibly be worse than pain?"

I looked at his beautiful face, unmarked by time as it always had been. It repulsed me that he was hanging on to every word.

"Love." I replied, boldly. I felt my words spilling out of my mouth messily.

"I didn't love you. Then came the _merzost_. The abomination. _Me_. She loves you. She _wants_ you. She pines for you when you leave, and she greets you with joy when you come. I've been infected by her, and now whenever I see you, _I want you, Darkling_. I want to have you love me the way that _she_ loves you. You're under my skin, and inside my head, and I can't live without you. I want to kiss you, and it's pathetic. It's torture worse than any knife, and a battle more bloody than that of any army," I spoke with passion and power and prayed to the Saints that he would believe the lies that I knew he so wanted to hear, that he was hanging onto my words that were half sobs as desperately as I thought he was.

He was close again, sitting on my bed, and I sat before him, so near that I could hear his heart beating.

"However do you manage _not_ to kiss me?" He asked, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

"I don't," I replied, quoting him, and leaning in.

I felt the power that I had in that moment, the control over him.

 _He still wanted me._

I made him come the last inch to make our lips collide.

I wished that he wasn't quite so good at kissing.

But he was, and I had to keep his attention for long enough that he would be too distracted to notice that I was working the handcuffs off of my bony wrists right in front of him.

He was gentler than I would have thought him to be, and he began to pull away after a moment.

I couldn't have that.

" _No_." I replied, and he came back to me, this time more aggressive, deeper, making my heart pound in my ears, and inviting me to return his intensity.

He took it as an invitation to begin moving his hands along my back, over the scars from my wings. It took more than I can say to not flinch at his touch; the hands that delivered the beast unto me, the hands that chose my scars.

I was still trying to work the chains off, and I panicked a bit at the thought of what would happen if I didn't succeed in time. The tired part of me wanted to let him have me, to have what he wanted.

 _No._

I kept working at the cuffs.

His hands moved gracefully down my spine until they rested at my waist. His touch was cool as night, and made me shiver.

He was trying to go lower when suddenly his body went rigid.

I pulled back, summoning with my hands free before me, losing the power of his amplifier, but riding on the strength that it had given me for a moment longer, still keeping my hold over the power.

He fought to move, but found that he couldn't. He watched me with a confused blankness, his face still inches from mine.

"Your wanting makes you weak, Darkling," I replied, coolly. "Mine makes me strong. I want my freedom more than I could want any man. And I _never_ wanted you."

He strained against my power.

"What... Are you... Doing?"

I smiled, as I froze the chains around my ankles with solid ice and then heated them so quickly that the Grisha steel warped, enough to let me out at least.

"There is water in your blood. A Tidemaker who controls more than tides has her ways."

He eyed the _merzost_ on the table when he thought I wasn't looking.

I set a thick layer of ice over the bell jar, successfully sealing it off, and picked the largest knife out of the table's collection.

It was a beautifully crafted blade, thin and delicate, with designs seared into the metal. It was light as a feather, and incredibly sharp.

I turned back to the Darkling and made him rise. It took all I had, and I was shaking with the effort, the effect of not having summoned for so long leaving me nearly faint.

"You should have killed me," I said, quietly. I felt my Darkness returning, the one that had visited me in my worst days. The one that had taught me the worst parts of myself, of my power. The one that had left an innocent girl behind, only to emerge some beautiful kind of broken.

This was who I had tried so desperately to hide.

It was her turn to shine.

"But I'm not going to make that mistake for you." I neared with the knife, and noticed something in his eyes.

Fear. A childish drive for action, prayer for rescue. An animal caught in a trap. No way to fight _or_ to flee. How I had felt for the last months. Hopeless. Ruined. As good as dead.

 _He was mine._

"I need you to end the way that my happiness did. That my freedom did. That my _trust_ did."

His eyes widened as I touched his chin, traced the sharp lines of his face with my painfully thin fingers.

He didn't so much as beg for his life.

 _Because he didn't think that I could do it._

I carefully walked around behind him and chose a spot for the blade to be driven home, one that could stop the heart and collapse the lung at once. An injury he could not survive.

A deep breath was all that was needed for me to find the conviction to kill him.

I stabbed the Darkling in the back, and he fell. He had moments to live, and I stood over him, smiling. _Free at last._ He could not fight it, just as I couldn't fight him on the night that he first turned me into that thing.

"Nataliya? What have you done?" Emmi stood in the doorway, a shocked and pale expression on her face.

"I'm free." I replied simply.

She frowned.

"No. You will never be free of him. You can't be free of him. He's your _Master._ "

"No one is the master of me. He's dead. You can finish your punishment now. You can be free too." Her face twitched, and then exploded into rage.

" _No._ "

She reached up with a hand, faster than I had ever seen her move before, too quickly for me to stop her, and squeezed her fist.

Her heart stopping abilities weren't very strong, but I fell to my knees just the same, gasping for air, involuntarily dropping my control of the Darkling.

"Darkling," she crooned, going to his limp and bloody form. "What did the mean little girl do to you? I _warned_ you not to love her. It's okay. _I'll_ always love you."

To my horror, she healed him beautifully, leaving not even a scar. He stirred quietly, still in shock.

" _You._ " She turned to me, contempt in her voice, as I struggled to my feet, breath barely coming.

As I stood before her, she strained harder, and I fell again, black spots beginning to cloud my vision.

The Darkling rose in my stead, still shaking, blood covering his back.

"Emiliya. Let her go." He commanded.

"No." The little girl stood resilient but distressed in front of him, only tightening her hold on me. I fought for air.

 _"Let. Her. Go."_ His even and smooth command was gone, and now rage and anxiety drove his words.

" _No_. I won't let her hurt you again, I won't let you love her for nothing-"

He raised his hand, and cut her in half, the tiny form falling to the side, her bright red blood flooding the floor and me, still on it.

My lungs inflated with oxygen, though if had I been able, I would have forced it out again into a scream. As it was, I was still too winded to do more than squeak.

"Such a pity. She really did have talent," he sighed, looking over the mutilated body sadly.

I slowly got to my feet, and raised my hands to summon.

Then stopped.

I was too weak to control him again, still broken, even if I could operate.

"Don't come any closer," I warned.

"Please don't do this," his hands were raised in surrender, and he spoke as though soothing a wounded animal that might lash out.

"As if saying please will stop me," I rolled my eyes.

"You don't have to need stopping. Things could change. You could rule as my equal."

"I don't want to so much as look at you after what you've done to me. I will have the scars that you can see for the rest of my life. The ones inside will last longer even than that. No, I think I know the real meaning of ruling as your equal."

"If that's your choice," he said quietly.

In the split second that it took me to summon, the Darkling raised his hands and performed the Cut.

But it wasn't on me.

There was a crack like thunder, and the bell jar shattered into a thousand pieces.

With a terrible shriek of joy, the small, dark form of the _merzost_ swam through the air towards me.

I knew that if I let it catch me, that I would permanently become the abomination. That the Darkling wouldn't make the same mistake twice, and there would no longer be a girl, only a monster.

That it was weak when it was farthest from him.

I threw up a wall of ice blocking him from the exit.

And then I ran.

 **XX**

 _Writing this was great. A lot of times, when I write, I see the scenes in my head before I put them down, mostly just the blocking and stuff, like it's a movie. *Shrug* The mind works in strange ways. But this chapter has been going back and forth for a while. Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing! Love you all! xx_


	11. Sankta Inna

The legends tell of a girl who fled from Os Alta so swiftly that she could race the sun.

The stories all differ depending on who you ask, but they all agree that she ran, and she ran, and she ran.

Some say that she was chased by a demon.

A demon who had once been a man she'd loved, until his heart went sour.

(And the truth of it was that it only took the Darkling about an hour to mobilize his elite Grisha and get over his near death, following her escape, gaining by every moment, the _merzost_ riding happily ahead, perhaps even snapping at Nataliya's heels.)

In myth and reality alike, the demon was one who pursued her with such anger and vigor that she could not stop to do so much as take a drink.

She made it all the way down the Vy in only two days, flooding over streams and rivers as she went.

The people saw her as she ran, and saw that she was being pursued (though not who was pursuing her). They noted that she couldn't stop.

They saw the storm clouds that followed her flight, her ways with water. And when she ran past one particular young priest and he asked her name, she yelled back with the first lie that came to her head, a sentiment from her childhood.

And so Sankta Inna was born. The people began to pray for her.

Rumors spread of how she crossed the fold alone by foot, and that she cured some of the volcra that had attacked her.

Although that rumor was not true, the story of the ice storm that came in the middle of summer was.

There were so many variations of the legend of Sankta Inna that one might find it hard to uncover anything consistent between them them at all.

That is, save for one part of the story that is always the same.

Rusalye.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The shadows finally caught up to her in the great bay of Os Kervo.

She had kept running, until she had hit the True Sea, only pausing for a moment before she skated over the waves and stepped softly on the surface of the water.

She made it all the way out to the mouth, only steps from the sea. Though it was risky, she continued in broad daylight, dodging and weaving between ships before she stopped, suddenly sensing a disturbance beneath the surface. Her unease grew as she subconsciously summoned a rain storm over her head, her nerves showing there though not on her face.

She made the mistake of looking around.

A curling spire of darkness was beginning to cloud around the great lighthouse of the city, and a dark haired figure could barely be made out ascending the steps to look out into the bay.

The darkness was growing by the minute, beginning to cover the sun and shut out the sky, reaching for Nataliya with a vengeance.

This didn't escape the notice of the sailors.

Neither did the crest of a ripple that broke across the water, the bay splitting as a huge spine rose slowly up out of it, a white figure creating a wake that threatened the safety of everyone on their ships.

It was so thick, so solid, that for a moment, they wondered if it was actually a mountain rising straight from the sea, a monument from the Saints, come to exact their revenge on the people for their sins.

It was worse than that.

A moment later, monstrous jaws breached the surface, leading a head covered by white scales and a pair of blazing red eyes.

It towered above the girl on the waves, staring at her distinctly, ignoring the frenzied shouts of all other witnesses.

They saw the blood red eyes were infinite, consuming and full of rage, but also something deeper, something... Sadder.

It spoke, and its ancient voice echoed in the mind of only Nataliya, no one else hearing the pair. Witnesses were too stunned to even bother to wonder about what was really happening.

The girl spoke first, calling out loud, only the serpent hearing her broken voice, though the winds that whipped as rain threatened to fall.

"It was you. All those years. The sea. It was you."

The sea whip's teeth contorted into what could have been a sad smile.

 _"You left me,"_ it hissed.

She hung her head, searching for the courage to speak her mind to the beast, sorting through the fond memories of all that the sea had once told her, finding her courage.

"I wanted to see the world."

 _"And this,"_ it taunted. _"This is what you wanted? Your scars speak for you. Your wanting made you weak."_

"Wanting? I _didn't_ want him. That's why he did this to me. Because you taught me not to want. Not to love."

 _"And what good did my lessons do? I can smell him all over you. You are unclean,"_ it growled in a low rumble.

"Unclean? I did what I was forced to do. These scars are my medals, this blood that of my enemies. I fought for my freedom. My mistake may have been venturing out into the world, but I have paid for that fault in my flesh and blood. I have paid tenfold, and now I am strong."

The beast stilled, quieted before her.

 _"No. Humanity in its entirety is pathetic. You are among them, simply another tear in a procession of mourners. From the moment I saved you from those who killed your mother, I had hoped that you could be more than them. More than the weak willed mortals that inhabit the land and venture out into my waters in fear and anxiety. You have become nothing because of_ him."

She noticed something strange in the tone of the beast, something unfamiliar.

Worry.

The sea had never had so much as a doubt about anything before. But the Darkling...

"You _fear_ him." She realized, chancing a glance behind her.

It appeared the the Darkling had paused his advance, was watching in awe and lying in wait.

If she was nearer, she would have seen for herself the greed in his eyes, as he watched the great beast, eyeing the golden scales that formed a crest on the water dragon and highlighted its face.

Morozova's amplifier.

But all she could see was his storm of darkness, still coming for her.

 _"I fear nothing."_ The creature replied hastily.

"Well, I have learned to fear enough to keep myself safe." She paused in anticipation before making her final comment.

"Rusayle, although I want nothing from you, if you still wish to speak now, then I will agree to that, but I must escape while I still can."

 _"You disgust me, child. I have spent time harvesting oysters, when no pearl was destined to be found. Seek me not again. This will be the last you see of this cursed prince. And I suspect that it will be the last you see of that one too, the one who has tainted your skin and burned your heart. And now you are like him. Unnatural. Never meant to exist. I say now a farewell to all that could have been. But not to you, child."_

He looked up at the Darkling for a moment, perhaps contemplating the fate that was in store for himself, as though he knew that it would come from this unnatural danger above all others. With what could have been a sigh, the sea whip turned and slowly slunk back into the deep.

Nataliya took a deep breath to steady herself.

And then she kept running.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

When Nikolai Lantsov was still Sturmhond Wolf of the Waves, when privateers were still more valued than princes, this particular privateer knew the whole sea like the back of his hand.

He knew where to find each reef, each of the doldrums, every pirate's territory.

He owned it all, living up to the stories told of the scrounge of the seas, practically a myth.

A legend.

Sturmhond's goal was to sail to every unnamed island in the True Sea and claim them for Ravka, creating countless maps and charts, his hands always busy, learning, working, creating. He couldn't sit still, needed a reason, something to work towards.

And he'd succeeded in his goal almost completely, making landfall in every place it was possible to get to on the sea.

Save for one island.

 **XXX**

It was a legend among sailors, (although it should be noted that sailors are full of little more than legends and _kvas_ ), that this island was haunted by a siren.

The stories told that a beautiful girl had fled from a demon, never stopping for either day or night. She ran over the water itself, to live in alone in despair, forever in desolation on the isle to stay safe from this demon. The tales noted that she sang like a Saint to keep away her lost lover and to draw in a new one, and that if you neared the island after twilight that you could hear her voice echoing over the wind. That the voice would spirit sailors away, drowning them.

But to Sturmhond, these were just stories, nothing more.

This sentiment, however, did little to change the fact of the matter.

That the island was entirely unapproachable.

On some days, a storm would pick up and toss the water until he was forced to retreat. On others, he simply found himself getting no closer despite favorable wind and summoners on his ship to boot. Still yet, there were times that he would find the sea path blocked by underwater obstacles that had not existed on the previous day.

By the time he had wrecked four ships in an attempt to reach shore, he was bursting with enough curiosity to think of new ideas, ways to get above the troublesome sea, above the island's defenses.

But, it was still too soon. He didn't have the knowledge or technology to create the air fleet yet, try as though he did.

And besides, he had the Saint-given wisdom to realize that nothing was worth obsessing over to the point that everything else would be lost.

When he sank his fifth ship off the shore of the Island of the Lost Maiden (as he so dubbed it), he relented, gazing at its shore in the distance and resolving to return someday and discover its secrets.

Little did he know, there was a war ahead which would change his life forever, a war which would put the island at the back of his mind, where even once he had invented aircraft, he wouldn't remember his ambition to set foot on shore until it was too late.

Until after the scars had taken him too.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The Darkling had quietly allowed the rumor of Sankta Inna's martyrdom to take Ravka by storm.

It served as a watch for him. If Nataliya returned to the world, he would know of it within moments.

The new Saint's story was a simple one, and the beginning has already been revealed, starting with her flight from the demon.

Then came the great serpent. The first tales were spread by the few who had been spared the Darkling's wrath after he had lost her. After his rage had taken out nearly every witness, and those who had been left alive had been too terrified to share the real truth.

Their false version said that she had met a sea dragon in battle and slew it with holy fire, drowning in the process, taken under to die because of the waves made by the thrashing of the creature's dying body.

But, she had willingly and purposefully sacrificed herself, and had apparently cleared the sea's trading routes, made it safe for sailors, safe for all, who were bound for Novi Zem or the colonies. She was remembered as a hero, the Saint of sea bound travelers. Beloved by Os Kervo as their patron.

It disgusted him. But it would be too hard to quiet the rumors and tales without sparking retribution.

In the stories, her victories only grew more exaggerated as the time went on, and ten years later, the two orphans who found a book about her read that she had been running from the Devil himself, and had slain nine sea serpents in one eve, dying only by being burned so many times by their acidic blood.

The pictures of her martyrdom are nearly all nearly the same.

They show her standing over the water with the writhing bodies of monsters under her feet, in severe pain, but smiling as though to say that she is proud of her what she has done.

Her eyes are sometimes as blue as the true sea and sometimes as green as kelp, and her face most often young and occasionally scarred, her body either beautiful or broken.

But her hair is always as black as night.

As with all Saints, her popularity would rise and fall with the seasons, with the way the war was going, and with what the priests encouraged.

For twenty years from the day she fled, Sankta Inna remained lost.

And then, The Sun Saint rose, higher than any saint before her had gone, and she conquered the darkness that had controlled Ravka for so long.

But long before the Sun Saint vanquished the demon, Sankta Inna was still fighting him.

 _I really love all the stories of the saints from this series and I thought it might be fitting to add another one. I am a bit worried about the parallels to Alina's story (I swear, I'm not getting this from her), and I feel like although Nataliya is kind of similar, she's also a bit more severe. I don't think that Nataliya would abide a cult rising up in her honor. Although she_ would _give away her shoes, and walk around barefoot. She would speak her mind. And the Apparat? He'd be doing whatever she told him to. A Saint who could properly rule. *Shrugs* I probably think about this whole thing way too much. Oh well. Thanks for reading and reviewing! xx_


	12. Death in Paradise

She'd slept when she arrived on the island for precisely a day before waking just in time to save herself once again.

The Darkling had pursued her in his fastest ship, the one with black sails.

She fought to keep him away for ten days and nights until he gave in.

Victory was hers.

But she did not rest.

Nataliya trained herself to live on only four hours of sleep per day, worked constantly to change the tides of the surrounding waters, to hunt fish or grow food, or to make a small bed under the stars and stash firewood for cooking.

She had long become used to the alone that accompanied her existence. It throbbed like an old wound, barely bothering her while she worked, as she limped on with her broken life.

But when it acted up, it was hell. She longed to be off of the island, around people. Any people. She longed for the friends she had made among the Grisha and the common folk. She missed the sounds of laughter, the smiles on faces of children.

The only people who she ever saw now were dead.

The island was her sanctuary, and she could not permit it to be breached. Most of the time, turning tides kept away curious ships, but on occasion, some needed a bit more persuasion. Sometimes, for her safety, she had to compromise; summon a storm, or move rocks and sandbars, even making icebergs once when she got desperate.

Any ship could hide Him. Any swimmer could be a mercenary, hired to drag her back to that hell.

They all had to die.

Any risk, calculated or otherwise, could _not_ be made. Not when it came to the Darkling.

He tested her a few times. Never again from the ship with black sails, as he knew better than to be so obvious, but once the ships neared, before even the sun was clouded out, she knew.

She could feel him in her scars.

She didn't quite dare sink his ships, because if he survived the wreck, the only place to swim to for miles was her island, and the last thing that she wanted was to bring him anywhere near her.

And there would be nowhere to go even if she did dare risk departure. She only knew Ravka's land, could only speak and read Ravkan, aside from a few stray words pulled from the lips of the dying sailors. There was no safe harbor left in the world, not while the Darkling lived. He would find her if she dared venture out of the safety of her new home.

Even after he had left her long behind and was surely far away, she could feel him. He had been inside of her head. He had become her. It was he who had turned her into a monster, he who had driven out the last bit of anything resembling humanity that she had had.

And she still could not shake him.

He was everywhere, a shadow in her mind, an echo of what damage he had once done to her.

Her scars didn't even begin to heal, and remained blackened and puckered under a fragile layer of skin. They were all that she had to show now for her life, for all that was done. All the years served on the island. Nearly twenty, but not a minute showed. Not anywhere but in her eyes.

They held pain.

It was her curse, that she had to serve as the executioner to the very people who she so longed to live among.

For when their ships crashed, those who were not claimed by the sea were washed ashore.

Many were grievously wounded. Some were not.

Either way, they pleaded for help. Whether it was in Ravkan, Shu, Suli, Kerch, Fjerdan or Kaelic, she could not afford to care.

She killed them all. She had to, to stop them from trying to kill her.

Because they were either already monsters, or they were going to be.

It was during one of these sacred rituals that everything changed forever.

The Darkling died.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Her arms were raised over the split body of the sailor whose ship had drawn too near. She had ended him and knelt down beside him closing his eyes to the bright sun that was beating down. She sent his flesh down deep for the sharks, and was turning to the next man when she felt it.

It was in her head, a lost cry for help, a throbbing pain that remained intensely persistent for several moments.

She'd wondered if she'd hit her head, or had gotten too dehydrated. Perhaps after all this time, she had finally lost it. Perhaps he had again drawn near and had managed to sneak up on her, finally coming to end it all.

But then the pain died with a finality, and she was left feeling bizarrely light and dizzy.

Her skin felt strange under her fingertips, and in an instant, a new thought occurred.

 _But it couldn't be._

She ran to the water and looked into a still and reflective tidepool.

Nataliya screamed.

She cried as she had never let herself when the Darkling was torturing her. Screamed with her whole body. Screamed in _victory_.

And as she watched her reflections, the screams eventually turned to laughter, and the laughter turned to joyful sobs.

The black had faded from her hair, leaving it the lovely golden blonde it had once been. The darkness in the scarred tattoo of her collarbone faded, until the flesh was still marked, but now merely a thin spiderweb of scars, like it had happened a lifetime ago. Her fingers stayed black, which worried her, but only slightly.

Something inside her felt like it was freed for the first time in a long time, like she had finally shaken off the spare that had been slowing her down. It was still there, still breaking her down, but it had lessened its hold on her, the difference between wearing a constrictor and a necklace.

The Darkling was dead, and for the first time in a lifetime, Nataliya rejoiced.

 _Just a quick little chapter here. But YAAY Nataliya can finally have a little happiness. I went to Hawaii not too long ago, and some of the deserted island stuff will be based on that, maybe, although these islands are a lot smaller than that, and spread apart much farther. I love the tropics. All sun and warmth and happiness. Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing! xx_


	13. Korol Rezni

Ravka was a country built on superstition.

From the first days of its conception, flying down from the wings of a firebird, its mysteries sustained it, lurking in the jagged mountainsides and the deep forests, leaving an air of doubt and mystery among its people.

The same was true for its new king.

With a mother and father somehow missing after the Darkling's terrible reign, Nikolai Lantsov ascended the throne, coming straight from the withering Shadow Fold, fresh from the Darkling's tortures, and had pieced the country back together by hand in the time it would have taken any king before him to get dressed.

But with his victory came the rumors.

He had been tortured by the Darkling, saved by the Sun Saint. Killed by the Darkling, resurrected by Sankta Alina. The Bastard King. The King of Scars. His new policies would save Ravka. His ambition would raze it.

But it didn't matter to him which story was told. Nothing could separate them from the pain that the _merzost_ had left inside of him, the pain of darkness that he could not seem to repress.

It haunted him.

Physically, he was as well as he could be. Breaks and cuts healed perfectly before he made his triumphant return to Os Alta. Healed perfectly, except for those damned scars. He could operate with the physical pain, go for days without sleeping or eating, work through sickness and broken bones as long as his country needed him. As long as he was kept busy he could push away the darkness,

The only pain he now felt was more than any broken bone could bring, more unforgettable and harder to heal than anything that could be done to his body, brought about by any idle time that he might have had, by his mind wandering to places where it should not have had to go.

The darkness inside of him was something he could hardly force himself to think about, something that crept up on him when he wasn't busy. So he filled his days with work to the point that he was too tired to do anything but sleep in the night, for the long hours of darkness, literally and purposefully running himself into the ground behind the semi-truthful image that he was saving the country.

Most commonly, he was his usual self, charming anyone and everyone who he met, laughing and telling jokes as he always could. As king his people adored him, handsome and true, and the savior of Ravka. As long as he was working hard and forgetting himself for the good of his country, he could come close to happy, even if he was never quite there.

But then moments would come when he lost Nikolai, and something else would take his place.

There was something that he was missing that the Darkling had taken and would not return, something dark left lingering both in his soul and on his fingertips.

His heart would beg for the light to last just a little longer, for the night never to fall, so that he wouldn't again be left alone in the night.

But in the dark was where he was the happiest, away from the stress of how broken he was, away from the prying eyes asking why he always wore the gloves. Asking what price the hero had paid to defeat the monster.

When he was in the light, the other part of him, the broken part, would come without warning and bring with it a glimpse at the beast behind his eyes. It was a darkness that made the rest of the court quickly realize that he was not the same boy, not the puppy prince that they had pushed around for so many years. Something new and powerful and deeply different from the young prince who had loved living and adventure, something worrying.

He would, on rare occasion, lose the most careful part of him that kept his royal appearance up, making small changes to his attitude, his temper shortening, his tolerance more limited, sometimes giving way to the temptation to let his anger take over for a moment, when people pushed him too far.

The members of the court more than just recognized this change.

They _feared_ it.

As Alina had pointed out, fear could be a good thing.

More often, Nikolai just felt like a scared and lonely child.

 _Weak. Pathetic._

He loathed the fact that he was now just as lost as any boy was, as fragile and scared as a bird trapped in a cage. He was worried for what this would bring to the future, how long it would take for him to be consumed by the madness living at the edge of his thoughts, and how he could possibly stop it.

But he never, _ever_ showed it.

Kings, at least decent ones, Nikolai knew, seldom showed what they really felt to their people. It was vital that they never saw how truly desperate he'd become, how far gone he was and how the scars haunted him. So he wore the gloves and lived with the rumors.

The country adored him, its savior, although it took them some time to adapt to the changes that he proposed to make.

Dismissing the officials he knew to be corrupt, re-instituting the power of the monarch from the state that his lazy predecessor had allowed it to fall to, and restoring the Grisha and the Second Army.

For the first time in more than a hundred years, Ravka was at peace. It was strong, bold, and powerful. The Shu Han and Fjerdans stopped their raids on the border as King Nikolai made a point of showcasing his military power. The people could go back to their homes and families, could farm the land. The draft was made much less stringent, so that the army was not one made of children. The Fold was gone, and trade could continue all the way to the True Sea. Nikolai had succeeded.

The people cared deeply for his welfare, and kept him in their prayers each night.

But prayers could not stave off rumors, or fix broken people.

 _Korol Rezni_ they called him.

King of Scars.

He wore his gloves everywhere he went, and did not remove them for anything, the black tips of his fingers remaining a reminder of his sufferings and his separation from humanity.

Some said it was a fashion statement, like his impeccable clothes, but some did not believe so much, he knew.

His nickname just went to isolate him more.

He had scars that no other man could claim to have, he was broken in some way beyond repair.

Sobachka was gone, and Nikolai sorely missed him.

When it came time to choose a queen, Nikolai's mood darkened more dramatically than it had previously, especially as the Apparat began to appear in every spare moment Nikolai had, insisting on finding a bride. How could he ask someone to bear his burden? How could any woman ever understand what he had been through? How could he learn to love again?

He was the only one that the Darkling had tainted with _merzost_ , he knew, and no one could even so much as begin to understand him. He could only bring pain and misery, not love.

He could not, he knew, marry for love. He did not think that he was capable of loving anything any more, not in the way that he had before his heart had been blackened. So he would marry for political gain. That was probably for the best anyway. It bothered him that he couldn't manage to trust anyone any more. There was too much for them to gain, too much for him to lose. And besides, who would want to share a bed with a monster? Something that had eaten raw flesh and _liked_ it? He couldn't begin to describe the experience, what it had done to him.

No one would understand him if he _could_ describe it. The pain. The strangeness. The war in his head that he often lost.

He was truly alone in this world.

Or so he thought.

 **XX**

 _NIKOLAI, FINALLY. It feels weird to me to write for him though. Maybe its because I haven't done it before. *Shrugs* Oh well. Thanks for reading and reviewing! xx_


	14. Dead Men Tell No Tales

A storm had just cleared.  
Not my storm.  
Ships had seldom come close to my island anymore, not after the rumors of death were confirmed as true.  
So I didn't need storms.

I kept up the tides, and hid the island in mist whenever anyone drew too near, but they all just let me be. Alone as though I didn't even exist.

Once the Darkling had died, I didn't need to stay in my prison any longer. But for some strange reason, I couldn't bring myself to wander away from this refuge.  
I missed the world, and all of its inhabitants, and yet...

Perhaps I could not believe that he was finally dead, although all signs pointed otherwise. Perhaps I was scared of what people would say to my scars, to the toll that my isolation had taken on me.

Then there was the fact that the Darkling had been ancient, and seldom do ancient things fall without leaving chaos in their wake.  
With him died a king.  
An empire. A cause.  
So Ravka would be in chaos, and returning now would not help to restore order.

I waited a long time after his death, waited and wondered what I should do. Wondered if I should do anything.

Now, the ache of the alone haunted me like a spirit, and I was ready to be rid of it  
I had decided that I would leave as soon as I was ready to make the journey.

But Mother Nature had struck against me before I could gather the supplies that I needed to cross the sea.

It had been worse than all of the storms I created in my time, the wind shaking the ground, the sky tearing open and lightning shooting down into the ocean.  
Permanent shelter wasn't necessary, as I could stay out of the rain at will, but lighting brought a different problem. I went into a sea cave to avoid it, just to be safe.

That night was a long one. The storm raged, and I could have sworn that I heard strange screams, cries that punctured the air and resounded in a supernatural way.

I had always heard tales, growing up, of mermaids, but I had never seen any. The stories said that their cries were like those of the damned, and I wondered if these voices were theirs.

In the morning, I returned, and inspected the beach.

There was bizarre wreckage, much more unusual than what would have come off of most ships, torn sails and shredded fabrics littered everywhere, billowing in the wind, and a set of Ravkan flags half buried in the sand.

The body of a shark had washed up in the tide, massive and bloated and cleaved clean through the skull with a sharp hunting knife.

It was there, as I bent over the limp corpse of the shark, that I could first see the other body.

The morning was just dawning, the sun rising behind the form that was almost surely dead, nothing more than a misshapen lump on the sand.

As I neared, I noticed the blood. More than any that I had ever seen of a victim of a shipwreck alone.

This must be the owner of the knife. A fighter who'd come up just short of victory, taken by the shark's jaws.

 _It was a shame,_ I'd thought, _that the first person who I could've let live had to die._

Half of the man's side was gone, torn away by the beast, flesh spilling out onto the sand, all sorts of guts and bones going in unnatural ways that could only mean death.

 _A shame too,_ I'd remarked to myself, _that he was so damnably handsome._

The figure had blonde hair, a beautiful face, a lean, muscled body and long legs. His clothes must have, at one point, been stylish, but now they were mangled, a boot missing, coat shredded, black gloves torn, the hands of a line-worker peeking through the holes in them, deep black scars marking the tips of his fingers _\- Scars._

Oh, _Saints_.

I lifted the nearest hand and stripped off the black glove, tossing the ruined leather into the sand.

His hands looked like they were calloused once, but were now softer, strong and manly, perfect, except for the marks.

The scars were black and jagged, not made by any knife, but by _merzost_ , ripping through flesh to form talons of obsidian.

He had them. The same as mine. I tore off the other glove to find the same, each finger, puckered and black at the tip, poisoned and dark and wicked looking. But they didn't match his face, which seemed clever and bold, beautiful.

 _He had the scars._

I couldn't believe my eyes.

There was no time to waste checking anything besides his fingers for old injuries. Instead, my hands went to his throat, searching desperately for a pulse.

Nothing.

 _Nothing._

 _No._

I was too late, I'd never know-

And then there was a faint flutter.

It was too foreign to be from my own heart.

Blood was still dripping from the gaping wound in his side, and from a cut in his arm.

I was no healer.

And even if I had been, this was more than any Heartrenderer would be able to repair.  
 _He's surely a dead man,_ I thought, even as I stopped the blood flow. His face was ghostly pale, his lips white.

Saints, _I had to know_.

What had happened to him. How he had escaped. What was left of him. How the Darkling had managed to trap him, to torture him. If he had been able to find a normal life, or if he was tortured by his own existence.

 _I had to know._

I had to save him. And there was only one way left.

To use _merzost._

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

I had never been tempted to before now.

Never felt the need to cross the line into the unknown, the forbidden.

I knew it was dangerous. Had the scars to prove it.

 _But I had to know._

For all I knew, I wouldn't be able to summon it, would forget a step in the ancient ways, taught to me so long ago by the sea whip.

But I had to hurry. Life was bleeding out of the castaway faster than his blood, blood which now coated my hands.

This would be the first and last time that I would ever say a true prayer to a Saint, I vowed.

I told myself the same thing about using _merzost._

Bowing over his lifeless body, I focused until my breathing was labored, until I could feel my essence draining away, my life beginning to pool in the palm of my hands, a carefully glowing blue.

So this was _merzost._

 _My_ merzost.

The magic gave me a strange feeling, a desire to keep growing it until I had made it as brilliant as I could. It hurt to create, but I wanted _more._

It was like the creature that the Darkling had made me, always hungry, all consuming.

Always looking for more.

But I did not fear it. This was _me_ , and _I_ was in control.

The _merzost_ glittered in the pale morning light, and I ever so carefully pressed it into the injured side of the sailor.

As I did, I willed it to heal, to form flesh, binding together what was lost, forming new blood and organs for those spilled on the sand. Not as the Darkling had, to turn him into something else, but to turn the magic into a part of him. To heal, not to scar.

Immediately, the castaway's color returned from the deathly pale, and his pulse quickened, as he gasped softly for breath, the magic melding jaggedly with the flesh.

I sighed in relief and weariness. It had taken energy from me, unlike normal summoning, and I felt as though I had suddenly aged forward, part of my strength temporarily gone.

I only hoped it would be worth it.

Moving the stranger to a cot woven of large leaves, I watched him as he slept.

I hoped he would make it out alive.

The magic hadn't healed the gash in his arm, and I had no other way to heal it but to use cloth unwoven from his coat and a needle whittled from bone to stitch it up once I cleaned it with _kvas_ scavenged from a shipwreck.

He had all of the scars. Wings. Feet. Hands.

The creature created by _merzost_ , or so I assumed.

If that wasn't the case, then there wouldn't be a problem. I'd just saved his life, and if he was a man of honor, then he would owe me, perhaps even enough to get me going on my way once we made it back to Ravka. He certainly looked wealthy enough to be able to manage giving me something for my trouble. We would leave the island as soon as he was well enough to move, and then I'd be on my way. I didn't know where I would go. Perhaps I would tour the countryside as I once had. I wondered if the fold had died with the Darkling. If not, I could lead expeditions across.

Perhaps I could run the lighthouse of Os Kervo. Maybe I'd take to the seas, or try my luck in a foreign land like Kerch. I could attack slaver ships and rescue their prisoners from being sold.

As I daydreamed about the future that was open to me, I tried to avoid thinking about the Second Army. I was powerful, yes, and I had a lot that I could teach them, but I found it hard to think of joining what was surely the Darkling's life's work, his pride and joy, the only safe place for most Grisha in the world.

But I had always been safer alone. The alone was where I belonged now, scarred and broken, older than I looked. And it saddened me to think it, but I sort of loved the alone in some way. It was where I was safe from being thought of, the dark being the only place where I was left feeling whole. I was alone in my sufferings.

I wondered if that was how the castaway felt too.

Although, for all I knew, everyone else in Ravka had been put through the same torture, left with the same scars.

But something told me that he was different, despite how I wanted desperately to think that he was just an ordinary person.

He had smile lines and smirk lines, and frown lines all at once, delicate cheekbones and a handsome face that I was immediately drawn to like, even in his sleeping state.

I wondered what his name was. What his story could be. Who and how and why, and what little habits he had, what his dreams for the future were. I wondered if he was married or engaged, or if he was dedicated to his work, if he traveled often or kept any pets. What color his eyes were.

Continuing with my chores and tasks was hard work, as I continually found myself subconsciously wandering to the clearing where he lay to check up on him with every spare moment that I had, wondering when he would wake, constantly being drawn back to his bedside.

As much as I daydreamed about what the castaway's story was, I spent most of my time worrying about what would happen when he finally came to.

 _XXX_

 _SO yeah. Busy w/ school right now. I'll try to work some writing in, but practice has started so I'm running a little short on time. Apologies. Thanks for reading and reviewing! xx_

 _minorly edited 11/28/16_


	15. Bloody Grimy Shark Bait

In his dreams, she was a Saint.

A _strange_ Saint though.

Hands would come through the haze of pain and cool his forehead or force him to drink.  
 _Scarred_ hands.

Sometimes, he heard her singing, and wondered what kind of strange place he had gone to after death, (as he surely was; people didn't survive bleeding out on deserted islands). Her voice was beautiful, and it reminded him of the legends of the Island of the Lost Maiden, and of his days as Sturmhond, days where he was whole and brilliant and happy.  
He could not remember why these memories came with such a melancholy taste. He only knew that things were not the same as they had been then, and that he missed not hurting all over.

And when he finally woke up, that was the first thing he noticed.

The lack of pain.

As his memories returned while he gazed up at a green canopy, he recalled the crash. And that's what it had been too, a crash not a shipwreck.

He had gone to sort out urgent business in the colonies, some unavoidable political affair that had taken nearly a month to sort out, along with a hearty sum of money and quite a bit of eyelash batting.

It was there in the colonies that he discovered the assassination plot. Not his own demons, but still coming for him all the same.

Planning neatly with plenty of time to avert the crisis, he had decided to take the newest model of the _Hummingbird_ back on its farthest journey yet across the true sea, while someone pretending to be him sailed back the long way, arriving just in time to be back in Os Alta for his birthday celebration. He had taken numerous precautions to ensure his safety, checking all of the winds and charts and books, but the storm had come from nowhere, downing his craft and all of his crew manning it.

He had last seen them in the water, but that was before the sharks had come, before the screaming started.

"Oh, Saints," one of the girls, a Squaller had screamed in the dark. "Sharks!"

They all tried to climb up onto the broken bits of the craft, to get out of the water, but were thwarted by the chill in their fingers, the rain pouring down and the sea tossing and shaking.

"We're all going to die," someone moaned.

"Have no fear! These sharks won't care for us, we'll taste far too much of gold for their liking. They wouldn't dare attack a king and his court-"

He was interrupted by the great jaws of a beast breaching out of the water to grip him tightly and drag him away, fighting for his life through mouthfuls of salt water. Eventually, he ended things in a tie, his hunting knife brutally injuring the beast, but his chest ripped open by its jaws.

The tides almost cradled him, pushing him softly onto the beach as the storm waged on aroumd him. There, he was far too grievously injured to make himself a bandage or try to stop the bleeding, and no matter how he cried out, no one seemed to hear him over the driving rain.

The pain had been intense and grew with every moment, somehow forcing his thoughts to be dull and far away.

When the storm died and all was left still, Nikolai had watched the sun, near to rising, and vowed that he'd live to see it break the horizon. He could feel his blood pooling on the sand, feel the salt and dirt caked in his hair, his coveted clothes ripped and mangled, his gloves torn to reveal the scars that he so loathed. And before the sun had quite managed to dawn, he closed his eyes for the last time, not caring about the rumors, or the throne or anything except that he was finally to be at peace, a last regret nagging him that he still could have done more.

 _At least the people will never see my scars,_ he thought, as the tide began to crash farther and farther away, while he faded.

But that had been then.

He felt strange now.

He knew his side had been gone. Had felt the absence of flesh while he laid on the beach dying.

But now it was there again, and he couldn't help but wonder if he had imagined the whole thing, or if this now was heaven and the girl with him really _was_ a Saint.

He sat up stiffly, and thoughts chased themselves around his mind as he tried to figure out what was going on.

"Be careful. I don't think you've quite healed yet. But I'm not an expert, so you tell me. How do you feel?"

He started, not realizing that there was someone else in the room, (or simply in the clearing, as it seemed that he was on an island somewhere, on a woven cot, not a building in sight).

"Better than I should, I'd imagine, after all I've been through," he replied, turning in search of the voice who'd spoken.

He found her with minimal wincing, the girl from his dreams, pale skin, beautiful complexion with white blonde hair. His eyes flicked to her fingers.

Scars.

Just like his.

"I should hope so. I'm no healer. Putting you back together may have been the hardest thing I've ever done."

"Well then you might want to consider staying a bit farther away," he teased. "I tend to be a very difficult man."

"Can't be as difficult as the last one I met," she retorted, tossing her hair in the sunlight. Saints, she was gorgeous. He looked again to her scars and wondered if the man she was speaking of was the Darkling.

"Is that a challenge?" He smirked, suddenly feeling self conscious in his ragged clothes, realizing that his gloves were gone.

 _She knew._

"I shouldn't think so. That was _not_ an experience I'm eager to repeat. I'm sure you know how it works, dealing with the Darkling. He wasn't a man who you'd willingly cross," she prompted. He noticed the way that she already referred to him in past tense. She knew he was dead.

"Nor am I. Although Saints know I'm not a genocidal maniac bent on ruling the world."

"Oh, you're not, are you? That certainly counts in your favor. Who might you be?"

He hesitated for a moment as he wondered which alias to pick. There were so many names he could choose from, so may new identities he could assume. He could give up the crown and the throne forever and set out again to claim his fortune as a new man. But something told him that she would recognize his lie before he even said it. And besides, what kind of king lets dying come between him and his country?

"Nikolai Lantsov, King of Ravka, Grand Duke of Udova, Sturmhond Scourge of the Seas, Wolf of the Waves, Major of the Twenty-Second Regiment, etcetera, etcetera."

She laughed for a moment, a beautiful echo of expression that left him feeling winded. Then she seemed to realize that he was serious, and searched his eyes for a moment.

"Oh, _Saints._ " After a moment, she bowed almost in mock, and he knew it was because here, it did not matter whether he was the King of Ravka or the Firebird itself, as they were on an island in the middle of nowhere and he was completely at her mercy. " _Moi Tsar._ I perhaps I should have given you a more royal welcome. Parades and monuments and the like."

"No, that won't be necessary. On this island, I should be the one bowing to you. You did save my life, after all, didn't you?"

A strange expression came across her face, almost as though she wanted to say something, but then she stood up properly and nodded.

"All right then, King of Ravka. What _do_ I call you?"

"Just Nikolai. However, 'handsome', 'brave' and 'legendary' are also very popular. And what about you, dear? Or do you prefer to be labeled simply as 'exceptionally beautiful'?"

She rolled her eyes at him.

"Nataliya. Nataliya Ivanova Alikaev. And if we were modeling it on looks alone, you would be more like 'bloody grimy shark bait'."

"That's tragically accurate, I would assume. But I swear that beneath all of the dirt and sweat is a charming young king."

"Well then I suppose that we'd better unearth him. Are you well enough for a walk? The hot spring isn't far."

"Hot spring? On an island as small as this one?"

"Man- no, _woman_ made hot spring. I had a lot of time on my hands."

"And lucky for me that you did."

Nikolai was wincing and struggling to stand, and Nataliya was instantly there to offer help. He noticed how she very discretely cringed as they touched, flinched away from his hands, although she did her best to hide it and didn't give a word of complaint. He needed her to walk, and still leaned heavily on her.

She smelt like the ocean, salty and fresh, and he immediately remembered his days on the sea, the salty breeze rushing past him at he stood at the helm of a ship and watched his crew prepare to launch into battle. He smiled in spite of himself and she caught him in the act.

"Don't get too excited, Highness."

"Being held by you isn't quite enough to get me excited."

"Sorry, but I haven't got the time for anything else at the moment. And you still smell like a butcher shop," she teased.

"That's hardly my fault. The shark bit me, not the other way around."

"I can already tell why it spit you out."

"It must not have liked the taste of royalty. And I daresay I was a tad undercooked."

She laughed again, and he was delighted by the sound. He found himself smiling for the first time in ages. It was something that he felt he could listen to for hours on end.

The path through the jungle was as short as promised, and the foliage cleared once again, opening to a wide pool set into a rock formation. Nikolai limped to the edge and dipped a foot in.

"Saints, I thought you said this was a _hot_ spring."

Nataliya raised her hand and the water suddenly steamed, clouds rising from the surface of the suddenly perfectly temperate water.  
"Lovely. A Tidemaker," he remarked approvingly.

"Well I did say that I wasn't a healer, didn't I?" She retorted.

"True enough. Although you do have very neat stitches," he complimented, looking at his injured arm, the stitches small and neat, holding the deep wound together.

"I have a lot of practice," she replied.

"Who taught you? This stitch isn't the one that most tailors use," he asked.

"My mother. I sewed clothes for my family back when. But that's enough of that for now. Get in and tell me if the temperature is all right."

He dove into the water gracefully despite his injuries and surfaced with a grin on his face, feeling much better already.  
"Care to join me?" He asked playfully as she watched him float for a moment.

"Not today, Highness. I've still got to find you some clean clothes. I'll be back in a minute. Don't drown."

"I'll try not to, but I can't make any promises. Are you sure there aren't sharks in these hot springs?" he replied.

She just rolled her eyes and left back into the jungle.

The water had the calming effect on him that it always did, and now unobserved, he lifted his shredded shirt off and looked at his torn side.  
There was a thick scar that ran the length of his torso, several inches into his side. The flesh looked and felt normal, but it was physically impossible that he had healed at all.  
 _Well,_ he reminded, _apparently just implausible._

He wondered what Nataliya had done, especially if she wasn't a Corpralki healer.  
Her face returned to him, and he could swear that he had seen her somewhere before. Not totally accurate, but still similar in an eerie way.

What was new were her scars.

This changed everything.

Before now, he hadn't even contemplated the possibility that someone had experienced the same tortures as he had.  
Nothing had even come close.

And naturally as king, he had needed to choose a queen. He could have practically any unclaimed woman in the world, he knew. But he couldn't bring himself to choose one, make one fall in love with him only for her to discover how damaged he truly was. Saints, it would have been so much more simple if he could have just had Alina. She knew about what he had been. She understood _merzost._ She had been the only girl that he had ever been able to laugh with, to joke around with like a friend. He had so few friends in the world, so few people that he could trust, so few who he could be himself around.

And obviously he had only known Nataliya for a few minutes. He didn't know a thing about her, other than what he had so far gathered, and that feeling of familiarity that he always got when he looked at her.

He had only known her for a few minutes, and yet, he already felt that they were connected, that they were friends. Already he could sense certain things about her, that she was honest but held her own secrets, that she was clever and sarcastic and that she seemed to like him. But then again, nearly everyone did.

He remembered the way that she cringed at his touch and had remarked that she did the sewing work in her family.

 _There,_ he told himself, _two reasons why you can't keep her as queen, other than the fact that you've only known her for five minutes._ _She's been with another man, one who treated her badly, probably the Darkling, and she's a commoner. Not to mention that she was Grisha and that taking her as a queen would likely lead to an uprising._ He'd wanted to unite the first and second armies once upon a time, but now to do so could be disastrous if the conditions weren't exactly right. He should tone down the flirting so that he could get back home and continue reforming the country. He'd worry about a bride later.

The king realized that he needed to get back before panic broke out, but at the same time was tempted to stay. Here he didn't have to marry anyone. No one told him what to do and he didn't have to tell anyone what to do. It was freeing, something he hadn't felt in a long time, not since- well, not since the _merzost._ It pained him to think about his time as the beast, but he'd had no real responsibilities, nothing that he had to learn, or do, or become, or save.  
Nowadays, he truly enjoyed being king and knew that he was by far the only one who he could trust to do the job right, but he'd missed the small freedoms of doing something as simple as taking a bath without being swarmed by guards or having to worry about the state of the nation.

And then he felt guilty. Because in another three weeks, when the ship that he was supposed to carrying him home landed in Os Kervo, and he wasn't on it, the nation would crumble to nothing.  
Before he could start worrying about how he would make a ship that could go that distance in time while carrying him in his injured state, Nataliya had returned and delivered him clean clothes, ones that he immediately recognized as having been lost on one of the ships that he'd wrecked in an attempt to reach the Island of the Lost Maiden. So this was the same island, and the siren it was said to hold. It was strange that fate had taken him here all these years later.

Nataliya left telling him to hurry or that she would eat without him and not save him any. That was something that one never heard at the palace. He quickly changed and dove back into the jungle,wondering what exactly he had gotten himself into this time.

XXXXXXX

 _BANTER IS SO FUN TO WRITE, IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY. Okay, getting yelled at to go to bed now, so gotta run. Thanks for reading and reviewing! xx_

 _ed 11/28/16_


	16. Fireside Tales

It certainly wasn't what I was expecting. I mean, who _would_ expect the king to crash into their island? He was so unlike what I had pictured a king to be that I'd assumed he was lying at first. Not stiffly formal or particularly regal, I had to wonder if he was just really good at spinning tales. There wasn't anything in particular that convinced me otherwise, just that familiar feeling of truth that I had learned to grasp from the sea, a particular suggestion in his hazel eyes and perhaps the way he already seemed tired of his title despite the fact that he couldn't have been on the throne for long.

He was refreshingly easy to talk to and I was glad, immediately, that it was him and not someone else who had been my first human contact in so many years.

He was lounging in the hot spring when I got back, and I left him a pair of clothes on a dry rock not far from the water, leaving my regards. It was strange. They seemed be perfectly his size, but they came from a trunk that had fallen from one of the ships who had tried to make landfall several years prior. He'd mentioned being something like the scourge of the seas, perhaps some kind of pirate. Had he tried to find me back then?

 _No,_ I reminded my wandering mind. _Kings are not pirates. This isn't some sort of fairy story._

Although, I daresay that if it was, he would have had to be a handsome _prince_ and not a king, as that was how they all went. I knew that he was probably the eldest son of the king (and not the younger one, as he wouldn't be able to rule), and that he was then probably about twenty some (although I'd lost track of the exact number of years I'd been gone). I'd never heard what either prince was named back before I had run away, and so there would be no way of knowing without asking.

I set about preparing the shark that Nikolai had killed for dinner over a spit, and waited for him to return.

By the time he got back, he looked much better, not covered in blood, and only a little bit scruffy. However it seemed that he'd lost his good mood. The question that must have been bothering him was the first thing that he asked when he sat down at the fire.

"With the wreck… You didn't find any of my crew, did you?"

I shook my head. After I'd revived Nikolai, I'd checked the rest of the beaches, and the surrounding waters for any other survivors. Or bodies.

"I didn't find any. That doesn't necessarily mean that they didn't make it, but I don't have any other way to find them. How many were there?"

"Five total. Four Squallers and one other line worker. We went down in the storm. It'd come from nowhere. All of my calculations said that the weather was prime for flying."

"Flying?"

He flinched, and I got the sense it was because he wasn't technically supposed to be telling me these sorts of things. "Yes. The Royal Navy has a small air force."

Flying ships? The world really _had_ changed. It seemed that there was more to his response, but that he'd been keeping it quiet.

"We can check the neighboring islands for survivors tomorrow if you're well enough by then," I offered.

"Thank you. I'd like that."

I nodded and stood to check the spit. Finished.

"I hope you like shark, because that's all that we have tonight. And I'm not exactly what you'd call a chef, so deepest apologies, highness, but this won't be your typical palace meal."

"Not a healer or a chef? What _are_ you doing with your life?" He grinned.

"Well, for the past few decades, fighting torture and running from Darklings. And yourself?" I cocked my head to the side a bit.

"You might want to sit down. It's a bit of a long story. Full of true love and high adventure," he responded, settling in to the log he was sitting on.

"Oh? High adventure I can believe, but true love? I'm not sure it exists," I all but laughed.

"Nor am I. But I have heard from some _very_ close friends of mine that is in fact a possibility. I'm very optimistic that it is, at least," he wasn't joking this time around. Perhaps he meant to be, but his eyes betrayed him.

He smiled a bit sadly. So he _didn't_ have anyone.

I gave him a piece of shark. It was only a little bit tough, an accomplishment which I rarely achieved. My cooking was horrible, but Nikolai didn't seem to notice, enjoying the fish far more than I would have thought him to.

"Is it really that good?" I asked, skeptically.

"I miss eating fish. At court it's all about spices and butter and which chef can out-cook the next. This is perfect. Simplicity at its finest."

"The people at court must really find you strange then," I remarked, chewing on a particularly coarse piece and grimacing.

He laughed for nearly the first time, and I was warmed by the sound. "You wouldn't know the half of it."

He rubbed subconsciously at his wrists, as though to pull up gloves. The scars stuck out on his hands. I had long been used to mine, but it seemed that so much as looking at his still held pain for him.

"I couldn't find a new pair of gloves. I'm sorry," I apologized.

"Don't be. There's no reason to hide anything from you."

"But you do hide them?" I asked, curious.

"I have to. If the people saw what'd happened to me- Well, I'm sure that you know. Even _I_ would've run from what I'd become. Or at the very least, I'd try to kill it," he tried to keep his tone light, but he was serious.

I caught myself shuddering and nodded a bit. If a thing like the _merzost_ had come for me, I would have killed it in a heartbeat.

"But it _was_ the Darkling?" I asked, trying not to trigger any kind of mental breakdown in either one of us.

"It always seems to be the Darkling, doesn't it? But I don't often get to tell the true story. It's quite a good one, but I'm afraid it'll cost you."

"Cost me what?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing _too_ expensive. After all, I _am_ the richest man in the world. Just the small sum of your story. Maybe answering a few of my questions. Although if you find that to be too much, I could settle for something else," he grinned in a sly way, and I had to stifle a laugh, rolling my eyes a bit.

"Alright then. You first," I replied.

"Well, I suppose starting at the beginning would be a good idea. I was born the second son of Alexander the third-"

"What happened to the first son?" I interrupted, curious.

"Dead. Killed by the Darkling. But he was quite like his- like _our_ father. Didn't care for the throne any more than he did horse racing or girls. Then he handed the country to the Darkling and got himself killed. It was almost for the best, if you ask me. But then again, I did end up with the better end of the deal, and I doubt that Vasily would agree with me," he smiled a bit and finished the last of his shark. It was clear that his bravado was an attempt to cover his emotion over the loss of his brother. Or half brother?

He'd hesitated before calling the king his own father, and it made me feel bad about what I had to ask next.

"Before I left, before I came here, I heard... _rumors_ , about you. About your father..." I trailed off, not wanting to question too far or suggest something if it wasn't commonly known.

"Saints, even all the way out here? How long have you been on this island to have heard that?"

He'd avoided the question like it was the wasting plague. Maybe the rumors were true. He certainly had a strong jaw, unlike the king before him was said to have. Saints know I never actually made it to the capitol though.

"I fled the year you were born. Which was..."

"Twenty-odd years ago. You're pretty spry for someone so elderly," he jested.

"I'd hardly call thirty something _elderly_. And I'd give all those years back if it meant that I never had to be stranded here," I replied. I hadn't meant to darken the mood, but it seemed that I had a knack for doing just that.

"Alright, I digress. And stop interrupting, or we'll be here all month," he chastised.

"Fine. Continue." I dismissed his criticism with a wave of my hand.

"Well, besides my arrogant and indifferent older brother, I grew up in the court, making mischief and all around aggravating my nannies and tutors, until they decided the best thing to do to me was ship me off for boarding school. I didn't do well there. Couldn't sit still, and ran away twice before I figured out how to. Anyway, eventually I decided to study properly and found that I excelled at it. Once I found my niche, I was off, apprenticed to a Zemini arms maker and then a Kerch shipbuilder. Served the draft in the infantry. The people liked that. So did I. Serving with the people instead of just watching or ordering them to their doom. I realized there how much I enjoyed strategizing. For all those years, I had watched, helpless, as my country suffered under politicians who couldn't do anything but argue. I knew that I could do better than them, and so I got myself a ship and made my name for myself as a privateer-"

"Aha! I knew it. You were one of the pirates who tried to land here!" I realized suddenly.

" _Privateers_ ," he corrected. "But yes, I attempted to make landfall several times. And failed miserably. I suppose I have you to thank for that?"

I shrugged.

"You could have been the Darkling. Or hired by the Darkling. Anyone could have been the one to drag me back to him in chains, which I don't think I could bear."

Again, the mood dropped, but Nikolai felt the depth of my words. His eyes shown in recognition as the sun set behind us.

"I understand completely," he communed.

"Good for you. Now keep going. It was just getting interesting," I replied, disassembling the spit and putting it under a nearby tree.

" _Just_ getting interesting? I've been halfway around the world learning about everything under the sun, lighting Dukes' wigs on fire, fighting on the front lines against the Fjerdan army, and only when I start talking about being a pirate you find it interesting?" He wasn't actually indignant, just teasing me.

"It's _privateer_. And yes. Keep going," I insisted. He tried to keep a straight face. Mostly failed.

"Well then. As I was saying, before being so _rudely_ interrupted, was that I made a name for myself. I was the fear of the seas, the wolf of the waves, serving Ravka more effectively than the whole navy combined. Then word came that something had gone wrong back home. It was too late for me to do anything about it, but the Darkling had entered the fold somehow and had managed to make it bigger. At the same time, the Apparat, head of the church, had tried to kill the king. I stayed on the water, but watched for my opportunity. When the Darkling reached out to me looking for a hired hand, I jumped at the chance. He wanted a whaler to hunt something, and needed a crew to sail her. All for a hefty sum of course. So I donned a disguise and chartered him across the ocean to Novyi Zem. It was from there that he kidnapped the Sun Summoner."

"There's no such thing. It's a fairy story," I interrupted again.

"There isn't such thing _any more,_ " he emphasized. "But back then there was. Her name was Alina Starkov, and Sturmhond had been hired to take her down the Bone Road after a second amplifier."

"What amplifier?" I asked, a suspicion sneaking up on me.

"Rusalye. The Sea Whip."

The sun had set quickly. We now sat in near darkness in front of the fire, the tide going out and leaving us with plenty of beach before the dark water threatened our flames.

 _"Saints,"_ I cursed, under my breath.

"It was one of Morozova's amplifiers, like his stag," Nikolai explained.

"Well, did you find it?" I asked, suddenly realizing what must have happened.

"I didn't _find_ anything. I just piloted the ship and stopped the Darkling from murdering everyone. But yes, we had a tracker who found the sea dragon, much to my surprise."

"You didn't think it existed," I figured.

"I thought it was _improbable,_ " he amended.

"And?" He noticed the pull in my voice and his changed in response-something more conciliatory than anything else.

"And what? The Sun Summoner had to kill it. The beast had already been wounded by the Darkling, and it would have been a waste to let it die and not take advantage of its power."

Here I could see the strategist, looking not to upset me, all while getting me to see his side. Clever. And absolutely right. That sort of power should not go to waste. And yet... The sea whip was dead. It was the fall of a titan, a huge and ancient thing that most didn't even know had existed, much less that it had finally been conquered. I would have mourned him if not for our last meeting when he had dishonored me.

"Makes sense. But I thought that you said that the summoner already had an amplifier. The stag?" I asked, confused. Grisha were only allowed one amplifier and one only. More than that was disastrous.

"Morozova's amplifiers were meant to be worn together. All three. Or so I'm told," he explained.

Strange. The name of Morozova sounded familiar, but I didn't quite know why.

"And the Darkling just let her have them?" I asked, suspicious. Giving power away seemed very unlike him.

"Well, no, we escaped with the sea whip before he could use it, but I'm told that he didn't want the power for himself. He sort of, _loved_ Alina, if you can imagine it. Tried to kill her and turn her into his slave multiple times, but somehow still called it love," Nikolai remarked. I could see something more between him and Alina.

"Men have a tendency to do just that. Once you were free of the Darkling, where did you go?"

"I made my triumphant return home, of course," he grinned.

"Ah, yes, parades and monuments for the young prince coming to save the world. What of your ships? Your fleet?"

"I left them under my second in command. He'll reign as Sturmhond for as long as he likes." Nikolai envied his first mate. He must have truly loved playing pirate.

"Sounds like a good deal," I mused.

"That it is. Not as good as being a king though," he grinned. I couldn't tell whether he was being sarcastic or not.

"And upon your triumphant return home?" I asked, trying to get back on track.

"We made plans. The Darkling was sure to invade at any moment. We knew that when he returned to the capital that he would not spare us. He had an army of his Grisha and shadow soldiers, but we hoped to take the fighting back to him. When he did come, we weren't ready for him. My idiot brother had let him slip right back through the border and into the city. There were massive casualties, including the crown prince. My parents barely made it out, and Alina nearly died trying to kill him. For the next several months, I rallied a rebellion in the north, but I knew that the Sun Summoner was out of reach, if not dead. You should know that by now people had started to rise up into a cult, worshiping her under the guidance of the Apparat. The Sun Saint. Sankta Alina. The people loved her nearly as much as they loved me. She wanted none of it. Eventually, we rescued her from a militia and took her to our base in the Elbjen mountain range in the north. And this is the short version, just so you know. The details from this point on are a little bit sketchier. Our plan was to leave that day. Alina and I to meet with potential allies, and Mal, the tracker, with his team to find the third amplifier. I was out on the terrace taking measurements. We never saw it coming. Straight up the side of the mountains, sky swarming with _nichevo'ya_."

 _Nothings._

"With _what_?"

"They were an army of _merzost_ , created by the Darkling to serve his bidding. Their bites left incurable scars, and the only thing that could kill them was when Alina performed the Cut. That was when-when he caught me. I hadn't thought that he _could_ before then. I had this luck, that just kept holding out. I could get myself out of anything, before then. I hadn't been concerned about what he could do to me. What he _would_ do to me."

I nodded. "No one would have imagined what he did. You weren't the first one taken by surprise," I replied. I remembered my thoughts when he had turned _merzost_ on me. Looking up into his eyes in shock and fear, the darkness about to take me.

 _What did you do to me?_

Nikolai looked grateful and continued his story.

"I remember being lifted and thrown by the _nichevo'ya_ , at Alina's feet. Then the Darkling sent these _things_ after me. I breathed them in and then..."

"He was in your head, wasn't he?"

He looked up, the barest shock in his eyes.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Her words were everything. He hadn't known that he'd needed someone to say them until she spoke.

"He was in your head whispering. Sounds of old. Of the making of all things. And then came the monster. It made itself a part of you. It took hold, like it would never let go. You could feel the changes happening. They were so _painful_. Agony in every second, in every breath. It felt like it wouldn't end. That your bones were molten and your skin was on too tight and that you would never see again. The last thing, the worst thing to go was your mind. It was shut into a little box, with nothing but a hunger and fear to sustain it. You were trapped inside, screaming, though you didn't know why. It wasn't a battle, it was a massacre. And then the beast took over, and the screaming stopped and you instead were driven by the hunger. By wanting _more_. Always _more_. When the time came that you found a small part of yourself again, you were ashamed of what you'd become. Beautifully grotesque and clinically primal. A monster in all respects. Mind _gone_ and body _gone_ and only the barest thought that you'd ever once been you. The Darkling did more than hurt you. He _broke_ you. And me. I can see it in your eyes. The same thing I see when I look in a mirror."

For once, Nikolai was at a loss for something clever to say, and instead stared deeply into the fire.

"But we won. He's dead," he was part fear, and part pride. Some bit of him seemed very childlike all of a sudden. He wanted to have won. To be right. To get over it. But he couldn't.

"And thank the Saints for that. But it was only the beginning. Now we've been left to pick up the pieces and put them back together. It's a load that you didn't ask for, but there are people depending on you, and you can't find it within yourself to let them down. So you keep on going, even when the sky is as dark as blood and the earth is gone from beneath you. It is your duty to your former self to hold everything together."

Nataliya had some kind of experience in her eyes, a glint of the firelight that said that she knew _exactly_ what she was talking about.

"I don't know _how_. Sometimes the darkness comes and leaves me behind. There's nothing I can do about it." Nikolai's voice was desperate. He wished he had her conviction, her freedom. "I've tried. I've tried everything I know. Healers and priests and fighting and peace, and light and darkness. But there's no one who understands. No one who's felt _merzost_ the way that I have. Not before you at least."

He hated the words the moment he spoke them. They revealed to her his weakness and his self-loathing, his accidental yet requisite tie to her.

He didn't want her to feel the connection in those words. He needed her to ignore just how much he depended on her. How he could not bear to keep on going without someone who understood. He could not risk the nation on his own peace.

"Then I consider all of those who know nothing of _merzost_ to be very lucky. Did your Sun Saint have any idea how to use it? How to control it?"

It wasn't the same, suddenly. Alina had been the closest he'd been to answers, the next best thing to what he'd been through, but she knew nothing, _nothing_ , next to Nataliya.

"She understood a bit, I think, but it never took her. Not the way it did me."

Nataliya nodded. In the firelight for the first time, Nikolai saw that where her collar had slipped down enough to show her collarbone, that her skin was covered in what he first thought was a faded tattoo. Then he realized that it was another set of scars, beautiful but strange. They covered her skin in a pattern that shadowed her bone structure, the night almost leaking onto her skin, though the scars were pale.

As he watched her in the firelight, he wondered what she had been through. And all of it, it seemed, had made her more isolated. Her posture nearly spoke for her.

 _I'm alone too,_ she wanted to say. _I have no one either._

But she knew that words like those would only attach the pair of them further, something that neither one was sure was a good idea. So she kept it to herself, and he didn't press her for the details.

"How long?" She asked quietly, still reverent of his emotions, careful not to trod on them.

"How long was I that _thing_? Quite long enough, I can say that much."

She seemed to find the answer she was actually looking for in his eyes.

"And the third amplifier-"

"They found it. It wasn't the firebird that they thought it had been. It was the tracker. And both he and Alina ended up losing their powers and settling down as Otkazat'sya, running an orphanage. But the power of the three amplifiers created a new Sun Summoning class of Grisha. They said that it was because of Sankta Alina's martyrdom. She nearly died while killing the Darkling and all of his beasts with him, and I literally fell from the sky becoming myself again. In the end, the fold was destroyed by the new summoners and everything was back to normal. I restored order to the military and the government within hours, and eventually went back to Os Alta to be crowned. I was on official royal business when I ended up here."

"And what of the fold? And the volcra? Have they been eradicated?" She asked. A practical enough question.

"Yes, but for the life of me, I can't manage to get anything to grow in the Tula. We've tried everything, but the sand of the Fold won't be restored to earth."

For some reason, this thought stuck with her. Though the Fold was brightened, it was not truly gone, still leaving a scar in the world. Nikolai watched Nataliya's expression, somewhat eager for her story.

"Is that enough for you?" He asked, leaning back a bit on his log. His long legs were beginning to fall asleep, and his wounds were getting stiff.

"Well, I may have to press for details later, but for now, it will suffice," she summed up.

He laughed a bit at her official tone. Most people didn't act like they were in charge of him, and he found that it was a welcome change.

"And you, Nataliya? How did you come about the Darkling?"

It almost hurt him to ask. He felt that she was meant to have just read it out of his mind.

Which was preposterous, of course, but still felt true all the same. He felt that she knew everything about him.

"You might not believe me," she replied, lighting a stick and watching it slowly burn.

"Do you really think so? I've seen things that you've never even dreamt of," challenged the king.

"Oh? Like the Island of the Lost Maiden? Don't you think I know a bit more about things like that?" She grinned a little.

"Well, I _would_ know, except that you haven't told me anything about her," he argued, playfully.

She laughed a bit in reply before she began with a deep sigh, almost like that of a Squaller.

XXXXXXXXX

 _Wow, I am so good at updating this on time. Yikes. Anyway, another chapter for you. Also, I feel like i should explain that my school blocked this website, so I can't update half as much as I could, and that it is also midway through the season for sports, so I have a lot more practicing to do nowadays. Really sorry that it's going so slow, but there isn't much I can do. Thanks for understanding & for reading and reviewing xx-j._

 _ed 11/28/16_


	17. Constellations

"When I was born, I lived just north of Os Kervo, by the sea. They neighbors whispered about my parents, too. They said that I wasn't human, a child born of the sea or that I was the daughter of a Fjerdan witch. I never found much of the truth. I had three little sisters and one older brother, and my mother and father and I were happy. We had some money, as my father was a successful fisherman before he settled down, and on the weekends, we would walk to the beach and play for hours. It was there that they realized my powers for the first time. I showed them young, and I was so strong that the weather changed with my moods. Can you imagine the state of crops and every ship in the harbor depending on how a four year old felt?"

Nikolai grinned. If it were him as a child...

"I wasn't allowed near anyone else after that. They didn't want the Grisha to take me away. So while everyone else went to town, I would go to the shore and talk to the water. And then one day it started speaking back."

"What do you mean?" He was confused, thinking that it was metaphorical.

"I asked the sea if it was having a nice day, and it told me that it had seen better. I swear I'm not making this up."

"All right. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt for now. Go on."

"The sea began to teach me things. How to summon. The old ways, the most powerful ways. It taught me to think differently. I was a ten year old with the power of a fully grown and trained Grisha. I could even fight, as I would watch my brother and his friends and the sailors brawling sometimes. But then came the draft, and I couldn't fight that. My father and brother left."

The darkness of the night crept into her eyes for a moment, and Nikolai saw how the draft had changed her. It was nearly abolished now, but Saints knew that it had choked the nation to the point of death.

"The entire coast saw a storm that summer that downed five ships. Eventually, I calmed down, at least until my father died fighting somewhere in the south. There wasn't even a body to bury. My mother and sisters caught the plague, and they were gone too. Grisha don't get sick. I realized I was glad that I didn't have to dig a grave for my missing-in-action-brother. It was a lot of work for one thirteen year old. When they died and there was no word on my brother, someone sent for an orphanage to pick me up, but I escaped and lived in a sea cave for the next several years. I learned more from the sea. Dangerous things. Secrets and tales and mysteries that no other person knew of," she paused, watching him. With a sudden spark of inspiration, he knew what she had learned.

" _Merzost._ "

"And here I thought you were just pretty," she smiled.

"Pretty is my forte, but I dabble in other things too," Nikolai retorted.

She smiled, though she attempted to suppress it, and stood to get a new log and stoke the fire.

"What next? Sick of living in a smelly old cave?" He asked when she was seated again.

"My cave was beautiful, mind you," she defended. "But yes, a bit. I missed people. And life. I wanted to see the world, and now I was old enough to do just that. I had decided to wait until summer to go out and seize my fortune. But fate decided otherwise. My brother returned, but he... wasn't the same. I cut off his fingers when he _-bothered_ me, and turned him out into the snow, to make it to Os Kervo or die."

"Remind me not to get on your bad side," Nikolai murmured. He could hardly believe that so beautiful a creature was capable of such violence.

"I'm not really sure that I even have a good side anymore," she breathed.

"Well from what I've seen so far, you hardly have another one."

"That's only because I'm in a good mood," she sighed.

"I'll have to keep you that way then, I suppose, as I'll be stuck here for awhile," he surmised.

"That you will. Now who were you criticizing earlier for interrupting? Was it me?"

"No, must have been some other lost maiden. Continue, please."

"The next day, the Darkling came. He demanded I serve the draft in the second army. I refused. He insisted. I'm afraid that he liked me a bit more than I liked him. It was probably my fault. I made quite an impression."

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows and looked surprised.

"Nothing like _that_. But I can see in the dark. Well, not see. But I can sense where things are from the water in the air. He tried his little darkness trick, and it didn't work the way he planned for it to. He was impressed. Either way, I wanted to see the world, and going with a royal official seemed the safest way to do it. But it wasn't quite. We were in Os Kervo for the festival of First Frost. A Fjerdan assassin came after me," she paused for a moment, recollecting.

"Did you live?" Nikolai teased, warding away the silence.

"Yes. But the assassin didn't. The Darkling sent him to the little palace for the Corpralki to practice on. Nowadays, I think that it might have been a test. A hired killer to see how far I would go, or how strong I was. Anyway, we met with his entourage of Grisha and crossed the fold a few days later. I found how useful I could be. I didn't need light to kill the volcra, and could take down flocks of them at once. I saved many lives in those crossings. But that evening, I spoke to the Darkling. He asked about _merzost_. I told him I knew of it, but didn't specify, though I had what he wanted. He was hungry for it. After that night, we traveled down the Vy, and I made friends among the Grisha. We stopped in towns and brought supplies. I loved meeting the people. As we traveled, I could always feel the Darkling watching me. He thought he loved me, and he might have. But I never loved him. One night he met me on a hill top over a valley. He proposed. _'not for love'_ he said. _'For Ravka'_ I told him I couldn't. I was sixteen. Alone. Afraid. Afraid of _him,_ mostly. I wasn't stupid. I knew he wasn't all that he claimed to be, that he'd created the fold and that he wanted more than just the little palace. And I was right. On the night before we reached Os Alta, he held an officers meeting. I went, as usual, but he drugged me. I tried to kill him, ripped open his chest using the Cut with my feet, even though my hands were tied. You should have seen his face," she mused, looking up at the sky at the memory that she must have held.

"I wish I had," Nikolai smiled at her.

"But then I was knocked out, and when I woke up, I was underground somewhere. A torture dungeon. First he took the blade to my skin-" She pulled the top of her shirt to again reveal her collar bone and the scars that rested there. He could see now each individual slash, an intricate mosaic of lines, fighting not to cringe at the pain that must have come with them.

"And when I told him I didn't care for looks, that his torture was nothing compared to my dead family, he used _merzost_."

She kept going, of course, detailing her healer and the daily torture. Nikolai could hardly believe how long it went on or how severe it was. To him, being turned back was worse, to be left knowing that you would have to be transformed again the next day, watching yourself being slowly broken.

He had fallen from grace only once; brought low only to climb back to his place. She was beaten down every time she tried to rise from the darkness, over and over for longer than he figured was possible. Not only was it her previous candor that convinced him that she wasn't just exaggerating, but also the horror of the situation.

It was far worse than anything anyone could have made up.

He marveled at her will to live, at her strength and determination to escape. He wondered if he would have lasted so long. If he would have put the world first, or if he would have freed himself.

He agreed that he wouldn't have let the Darkling win, no matter what it took. But then, he remembered the pain of the transformation. The monster. The darkness. Then he wasn't so sure.

"And I never knew when it would stop. Eventually the creature grew to love him as I never could. He became her master. I could feel him touching me, hands like ice on my skin, but could do nothing, because she liked it, almost as much as she loved blood. I could never control her, until one weekend, when the Darkling went farther away than usual. I got control, and I made a plan."

For some reason, Nikolai felt enraged that the Darkling had dared touch her. The man's reach had been everywhere, taking any girl he liked, torturing those who opposed him. It was _vile._

"He was an amplifier, and while I was touching him, I could control the water in his blood. So before he turned me one day, I made contact and slipped out of my handcuffs. My plan _almost_ went perfectly."

She described her escape, but Nikolai was still hung up on the fact that she had killed the Darkling. Stabbed him in the back, and had watched him fall, only to be healed by the tiny Corpralki. A little girl, whom the Darkling then cut in half. He must really have cared for Nataliya to stop his healer from killing her.

 _Or he thought he did_ , as she had said earlier. _Could a creature as twisted and broken as the Darkling have ever truly loved anything but power?_

"And then the merzost was after me, and I ran like no one's ever run before."

All the while, as she told of how she had fled, Nikolai _knew_ that he had heard the story before.

And then it hit him.

"All Saints, Nataliya, have you ever heard the story of Sankta Inna?" He interrupted, the realization deafening him to her words.

"Inna? How could you _possibly_ know that? That was what my neighbors called me as a child when they saw me summon. But a Saint?"

"The story of Sankta Inna is almost exactly the same as your flight. She fled from a demon and flooded the Vy, crossed the fold and beheaded volcra, set off a snowstorm in summer, until she died at sea, combating a serpent-"

"Rusalye."

"What?" he asked, incredulous.

"That was the serpent. I didn't kill him. Just talked. But it turned out that he had been the sea all along, teaching me ancient secrets I'd have been better off not knowing. He was disgusted by my scars. Preached that I was tainted and that he wouldn't tell me any more. Then he left me, and I came here, running from the Darkling, summoning like my life depended on it. Because it did."

"Saints." He shook his head, recalling the painted icons and shrines set up to the young saint.

"You're the patron of Os Kervo and of sea-bound travelers. Did you know that?" Nikolai asked, amazed. He had prayed to Sankta Inna whenever the seas had gotten rough.

"No, I don't usually get more than 'mermaid' out of the people who've shipwrecked here," Nataliya grinned, secretly pleased.

"A mermaid and a saint. How much are they paying you these days?" Nikolai asked.

"Not enough. All I get is some fresh coconut juice and scruffy shipwrecked kings. I'm going to demand a pay raise as soon as I make it to the mainland, though."

"Oh? And how long will that be?"

"As soon as I can get a raft together and you're well enough to make the journey."

"Why don't you leave the raft making to a professional ship designer?" He asked, referencing his skill in design.

"Because his last ship crashed and nearly killed him." She handed him a tin cup of fresh water.

"True, but that wasn't entirely my fault."

"Then whose fault was it?"

"Call it what you like. Fate. Destiny. Mother nature."

"Ah, blaming everything on nature again, are we? First it was the shark's fault for taking a bite of you, and next, it'd have to be the storm's fault for showing up in your path."

"Well, I can't say that I blame the shark entirely. I must have smelled far too delicious for him to overcome his temptation. He _had_ to take a bite."

"Well next time, do me a personal favor and try to smell less tasty."

"I don't know if I can do that. It seems to be a more subconscious habit," he replied. "And what's it matter if you're going to be there to put me right again anyway?"

"That," she replied, filling her own glass with a wave of her hand, "was a one time deal. Never again, Highness."

There was a pause where he debated asking her how she'd done it. She wasn't a healer, and he'd been too injured for even a healer to treat. Perhaps she really did have some kind of divine power. That was outlandish. But even legends had some truth to them though... _.merzost_.

Could it heal as well as harm? It certainly made the most sense. And she was obviously a very powerful Grisha. But she had killed anyone who had landed on shore before him. It suddenly made him very apprehensive. Was she insane, as the Darkling had been? She was certainly dangerous. But she liked him so far, and he wanted to be able to trust her, to have her trust in him.

So he took a gamble.

"So, here's my question. A man shows up on your beach, bloody and nearly dead. _Mostly_ dead. You don't know him and you're not a healer. You use _merzost_ to save his life. Why?"

She sighed deeply and gave the stars a melancholy smile.

"Looks like you do more than just _dabble_ in clever. What would you have done In my place?" She asked.

Her eyes pierced his through the night, and although she already knew what his answer would be, she continued asking.

"A girl with scars identical to yours washes up in front of you. The water is thick with her blood. She looks dead. She _is_ mostly dead. But her scars are the same as yours. And you've spent so long alone on this island, away from anyone and everyone, all news of the outside world, that you're dying to get any real news. You check her pulse. Not quite there. But now she's got your curiosity. You have to know what happened to her. If she really is like you. If she's as broken, as solitary. As alone. And you argue with yourself. _Be logical_ , you say. _You've never used the merzost. You don't know if it will save her._ But it seems wrong, her body lying broken on your beach. She's meant to be alive, talking to you, not to be a piece of chum, another victim, dead in the water. Do you cross the line of what's natural, Nikolai? Do you save her?"

Her question of the ethnics struck him particularly. Was his resurrection natural? Was he destined to die on that beach?

It didn't seem like he stuck to destiny very well, if he _was_ supposed to die.

Before he realized it, he had his answer for her.

"I don't even have a choice when it comes down to it. Yes. I save her," he replied, sighing.

"I think we're alike in that way. We'll always save them."

Her candor surprised him. She had spent so long trying to keep her distance that it was unexpected.

"I doubt that that's the only way we're alike," he hinted. Then he caught himself. _Don't take this too far._ "It's probably the most important one though," he backtracked.

"More important than the scars?" She asked, inquisitively. "Wasn't it the scars that saved us in the first place? I would never have thought to heal you without them. A blessing in disguise."

"Actually, that does make quite a bit of sense when it comes down to it."

"Sorry, but I think I misheard you. I was almost certain that you'd admitted to being wrong," she replied, grinning.

"Don't get used to it. I was only half wrong to start with. And its not my fault. I'm nearly asleep." he replied, yawning. Catching her doing the same, he laughed a bit. "What, do Saints have an early bed time?"

"Only if kings do," she replied. "But, this saint has to get up with the sun to go on a man hunt, so I'm planning to turn in."

"Where do you sleep?" He watched then followed, as she stood and stretched.

"Under the stars," she replied, pulling a pair of woven mats out of a hollow tree trunk nearby. "Great view of the universe from here. Although I daresay it was better on that air ship you arrived on."

He shook his head distractedly. "No, we kept lanterns for the Squallers. Too bright."

They banked the fire and settled a little ways away, under the stars indeed. The new moon left plenty of darkness for all of the tiny suns and galaxies to shine through.

He wanted to point out their names to her, all of the constellations that he had learned out on the sea. Something stopped him again. Probably his rationalism. This wasn't a queen. This was a strange girl, with dangerous powers. He might have begun to fall in love with her, but if she fell in love with him and they didn't end up together (and they _couldn't_ ), then Saints knew she would turn into some kind of monster. He had only known her for a few hours. It would be better to be safe than sorry.

So, instead of gazing up at the stars and wondering what _could_ be, he rolled onto his side, and let sleep take him as he listened to the soft sound of Nataliya's breathing nearby.

* * *

 _Awe this whole forbidden romance thing is driving me nuts. JUST KISS ALREADY. saints. Anyway, I love nikolai a lot, so I hope I can d ohim justice and finally give him a proper love story and a (maybe) happy ending. Thanks for reading and reviewing!_


	18. Sketches in the Sand

Sleep was a rare thing nowadays for Nikolai, plagued with nightmares and weighed down with the responsibilities that he would face with the rising sun.

This seemed to be the exception, he realized. His exhaustion must have taken him beyond dreams tonight, as he had to be shaken awake by Nataliya's gentle hand.

"Sleep well?" She asked, the sun barely breaking the horizon behind her.

"Surprisingly. These mats are much more comfortable than I would have imagined."

"Well that's good to hear. I hate to have to wake you, but I'm leaving to go search for your men now."

"All right. Just give me a moment and I'll be ready to join you," he stretched and winced, the nearly forgotten stitches in his arm pulling tightly.

"No, you _won't_. You need to heal. Sleep in, and when you wake up, gather some firewood or re-sort my supplies. You can't come," she replied, sternly.

"I can heal well enough wherever it is you're going. I promise I won't slow you down."

She stared him down for a moment, then relented when she realized that he wasn't going to.

"Fine," she sighed. "Follow me." He stood and trotted after her, headed for the water.

When she reached the shore where the waves were softly breaking, she paused for a moment and took a deep breath, then hopped up on top of an oncoming crest and stood over the water. She walked out a few steps, creating a pool of stillness that she could stand on while she watched the waves crashing towards him.

"What's the matter? I thought you were coming," she smiled slyly.

He gave her an exasperated look and ran a hand through his hair, his feet still on the sandy ground, water up to his knees.

"All right. I get the point. Just the firewood, then?"

"And sorting out the supplies. Mind that you don't drink the _kvas_. That's for injuries only."

"Aye aye, captain. When will you be back?"

"Before sundown, without a doubt."

"See you then."

"Be careful, Nikolai," she instructed.

"You too," he replied, instead of promising, doubting that she even heard him.

He watched her go, waves breaking around him, the dawn following her as she walked over the water out of the crescent shaped bay. His eyes were on her until she was out of sight.

"I don't even _like_ _kvas_ , anyway," he muttered to himself.

Sighing, Nikolai knew he was tired, but that now he was up, he wouldn't again be able to fall asleep, not without having to face his nightmares. So he went into the jungle where he knew Nataliya kept her supplies.

There was work to do today, real _physical_ work, and for the first time in a while, Nikolai was glad for it. It gave him something to push for, to get the emotion out of his system. He picked up an axe from where it rested on a stump, and stalked off through the jungle to find a dead tree to chop into firewood.

 **xx**

It was strange, having someone on the island with me. Especially after all those days where I'd never heard the voice of anything except for the wind, or seen any civilized creatures aside from dying sailors.

I realized that I had missed life. Missed living among friends and having someone to talk to or ask for help. With Nikolai here, my longing to get back into the world had rekindled.

I left him on the beach behind me as I walked out over the waves, moving quickly until he was out of sight. I continued on the surface until I was out past the reefs and most of the waves, then dropped into the crystal blue ocean, creating a current as swift as as a river to carry me through the water. I needed to move quickly if I was to reach all of the places that I wanted to search before nightfall, but my thoughts weighed me down; made it seem like I was never going quite fast enough. Nikolai was worried for his crew and had wanted to come along. He still seemed a little unwell, though, so I'd left him to fall back to sleep and eventually get some busy work done while I searched for other survivors. I also sensed that he had a lot to think about, or was on the verge of discovering something important; I figured that he would appreciate some time alone before I returned, possibly bearing bad news.

I wondered what would happen next between us. He was wonderful. Charming and kind, clever but wise. I felt that I knew him, like I could trust him, but more than just that. His laugh made my heart flutter off-beat, and it was terribly contagious, making me giggle at the sound of it. I found myself thinking of him often (if not constantly), not just in the expected way, but picturing his handsome face or his lean muscle, his eyes full of firelight. It was unfamiliar; the idea that I might, for the first time in my life, have fallen in love. But was this Love? How would I know? I'd spent most of my life locked away, living in fear and hiding, only knowing joy in the pain and death of others. Was I even capable of love?

I certainly hadn't felt anything like this before, but was love the right word to describe it?

It was beautiful and infuriating at the same time; bold and impossible, elegant yet awkward.

But mostly impossible.

He was the _king_ , for Saints' sake. Although I had apparently been mislabeled as a Saint, in reality, I was little more than a girl who had been too weak to save anything more than herself. A girl who was old but not withered, and broken but did not look it.

What I needed was a quiet life of peace and healing, to be able to quietly atone for my sins and grow old comfortably.

But that certainly didn't mean living at the Palace or the Little Palace. There was too much hustle and bustle there, too much going on for me to quietly assimilate back into the world.

Not to mention that people would be there watching my every move.

People who would, undoubtably, find me too loud, too bold, too unusual. Saints only knew what they'd say about my scars...

No, returning to the world did not mean returning to the palace for me, although it certainly did for Nikolai. He had to go back to his country, as it would fall without him, just like a man without a head.

Beyond that, too, he deserved better; someone as young and spry as he was, someone who was whole as I could never be.

He deserved someone who wouldn't cringe at his touch as though he was the Darkling.

The people too, needed someone who they could look to for hope; a queen who would be both loved and respected. He needed someone who could rule wisely at his side, someone who he knew he could trust.

 _Not me._

And besides, I doubted that he felt the same way about me as I did about him.

Whatever I felt would have to be ignored, not only for my own good, but for the good of the whole country and everyone in it.

And with that thought, I came to the first island that I would have to be investigating, where it looked like the rest of Nikolai's ship had washed up. On the beach was debris similar to what I had found previously on my own coast. There were heaps of sails, and even what looked like hull embedded in the sand. Golden letters nearly rubbed away by sand read: _"The Hummingbir-"._

Cliffs rose up against the sides of the beach, rising elegantly up, dangerous and impossibly tall up against the clear blue sky. From their peaks, I would be able to see the whole island and the surrounding waters, farther than I could ever hope to on the ground.

After a quick hike through the jungle, I began to make my way up the nearest of them, going carefully to avoid injury. I found my mind wandering again to think of Nikolai, and I cursed myself. I had my task. So did he. It was high time I began to focus more on my own.

The sea whipped over the top of the cliffs, sending a fresh, salty spray up to the sky, wind carrying a hearty breeze to where I stood on the edge, making me feel as though I was flying. I now had a brilliant view of the open ocean for ages, seeing the edge of my island on the horizon. No smoke or fire as far as I could see, so Nikolai hadn't completely burned it down at least.

Good.

It was already late afternoon, and another glance at the rest of the island that I could now see from the top said that there were no people here. They would have made more tracks or have started a fire, and there were no paths cut through the thinning jungle. It seemed that the island itself was on its last legs; the trees were an off shade of their usual tropical green, and they looked like they would keel over the next time the wind blew too strongly.

There was nothing on land, but the water was still a possibility. As much as I didn't want to go looking for bodies, I promised that I would do all that I could to find the crew.

I spent the afternoon searching the nearby reefs for any remains.

There were various other ship parts, including a set of very strong ropes and a pistol. I brought both back when I left the area about an hour before sunset.

Just because there hadn't been any sign of them here didn't mean that they hadn't ended up in the opposite direction.

I had spent the last decades studying the tides of the area, and knew that things could have ended up going either way, depending on where the original crash had occurred. It must have happened closer to my island than I had calculated.

No matter. If they weren't already dead, then they wouldn't be tomorrow either.

Now all I had to worry about was getting back home.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The sun was torturous. Nikolai was used to it to a point, as he once spent long hours on the decks of ships when the heat was at its peak, but this was something else entirely.

The sun poured down and radiated on the beach like a pan on the stove, the sand burning his bare feet if he strayed out of the shade. Heat rolled up in waves from the earth and licked his face, until he was sure that he must be burning. He was careful to drink plenty of the water that Nataliya had left behind in store, and kept a wet cloth tied around his head to try to stay cool, but it was hardly enough.

That was why he was so grateful when the heat broke as the shade started to grow along the beach.

He had already chopped more than enough firewood (as her collection was already substantial) and reorganized her supply trunks with ease, though some of their contents surprised him.

Buried at the bottom of one of them had been an old and worn set of clothes that did not match the others that had come off of shipwrecks. It was patched and worn; not at all near Nataliya's size, although she had clearly worn it. The set of a top and pants were soft, possibly silk, nearly fine enough to be, and entirely black. He wondered what the story behind them was. A sailor who had shipwrecked? No, not just any shipwreck; he had a feeling that she would not have kept them if they were only from some stranger. All of the other clothes were in pristine condition. It was as if she could hardly bear to hold these long enough to clean them.

More likely clothes from the Darkling, then. A set of his nightclothes that he had perhaps forced her to wear.

Again, Nikolai felt a righteous anger surging inside him. Then he stopped himself.

She was clearly over it, and he should be as well.

And besides, it was not his business to concern himself with. She was merely his way back to the mainland, nothing more. He had to keep focused on that. Because if he focused on what he really wanted, all he could see was her.

 _You must be who is best for the country. Who the people expect you to be. You will marry someone who will grant Ravka an alliance. No matter who your heart chooses. You can't afford love,_ he reprimanded.

Restless, Nikolai realized that he needed something to focus on, or at the very least something for his hands to do while he worked out the problems in his head.

The sand on the east side of the island was already immersed in blessed cool shade, and the pale sand made a lovely drawing pad. Nikolai picked up a stick with a sharp end, and went to work sketching the latest design of the Hummingbird from memory, trying to find the fault that brought them down in the storm, or at least some way to make weathering the next one more possible. While he sketched, he kept thinking, and even caught himself speaking out loud a few times.

A detailed set of sails were the first thing to emerge in the sand.

 _She probably doesn't like you that much, anyway. Just another innocent girl you've charmed the heart of._

Another stroke of the stick made up the rudder.

 _Saints know what the court would make of her. That place is practically hell on earth already. I'd hate to drag her into it. She'd make_ my _life a fair bit easier though._

A set of particularly thin marks sketched the rigging.

 _Zoya's face would be_ precious _if she saw Nataliya. Finally found someone who can properly kick her ass._

Finally, the last bow was sketched out and Nikolai stood back to admire his work.

 _Not bad for a piece of shark bait, eh? Now, would I loose too much airspeed velocity if I trimmed the sails by about twenty percent? I'd imagine that it might throw off the equilibrium of the hull, though..._

Slowly, his thoughts of Nataliya were chased away while he pondered the possibilities of the ship's design.

That was how she found him, when she arrived back; pacing in circles and muttering about dimensions and statistics. She walked right out of the water and next to him, with Nikolai only half noticing.

With one good look at the design, she pulled him out of his daydream.

"The body's too long to be able to properly maneuver in high winds, I'd expect. A shorter tail piece _should_ achieve that, seeing as the extra weight only compensated for the cockpit anyway. The rest isn't half bad, but I'd recommend adding a fuller width to the sails and adjusting their angle slightly."

"To do that, I'd need another pair of Squallers."

"Not if you drop the weight in the back. If you had a shorter tail, you wouldn't need as much lift."

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then nodded to the side, considering her input.

"Should work with a few minor alterations. Where did you learn that?"

She shrugged. "I've been watching ships and birds all my life. Natural, I guess."

He seemed to fully realize the idea that she was back, and jumped to attention.

"How was the search? Did you find anything?"

She took a breath. He tensed.

"Yes. I found the some of your ship, but no survivors. But that's not a bad thing. Only about half of it was there. The rest might have been in the other direction. I'll check there tomorrow."

"Thank you," he replied, breathing a little easier.

"Also, I scavenged these from the wreck."

She pointed to the coils of rope and the pistol, which she had left a few feet away in the sand.

"I can see why the pistol, but why the rope? I thought you already had some?" He asked, remembering the dozens of coils that she had stashed away in the jungle, carefully kept from rot or decay.

"I have a plan. And I need the fibers from this rope. It's not _normal_ , is it?" She asked inquisitively, picking up a rope and running a hand over it. It was smooth, unlike most shipping rope, and could be separated to very fine threads that were still strong.

"No. Not normal at all. It's an alloy developed by Fabrikators. You have a plan?"

"Mostly. That's why I wanted to look for survivors. They'd be helpful," she replied, picking up the rope and dragging it to the treeline.

"And what does that plan involve?" He asked pitching in after tucking the pistol into his belt to keep it out of the sand.

"First I need to hear about this assassination attempt. Then I need some cloth and a knife."

Nikolai looked a bit skeptical, but agreed.

"All right. The information that we've gathered said that the assassins would be waiting in Os Kervo for my arrival. Not much more than that, other than that they're some kind of religious fanatics. We'd planned to take the _Hummingbird_ inland and arrive there much too soon for them to strike, but I suppose that's out of the question now. The ship that everyone thinks I'm on will make land in about three weeks. Obviously we can't put it off much longer, or else the country will think I'm dead, but we can't arrive sooner, unless you've got some kind of miraculously fast vessel for us to travel in."

"Is your information reliable?" She asked skeptically, eyebrows raised.

"Yes. It came from a close friend of mine," he confirmed.

"And the assassins, how many of them are there?" She requested.

"Five."

"Perfect. Do you think these fanatics believe in Sankta Inna?"

A spark ignited behind Nikolai's eyes as he realized what she was saying.

"Absolutely."

"Good. Let's discuss the details over dinner."

"Fish?" He asked.

"No. I'm too tired to hunt. There's some decent fruit in the jungle, though, if you know where to find it."

"Lead the way."

* * *

 _Wow, long time no update. Sorry about that, but life demands living. Also on that note, this bit has been minimally edited for lack of time. Anyway, here's the next installment, and hopefully the next one will be up soon. Thank you all_ so _much for all of the positive reviews and for reading in general. Feel free to let me know what you think! Thanks!_ _~j._


	19. For Ravka

That night at the fire, things were different. Nataliya sat next to Nikolai on the same log, instead of across from him. She told herself that it was so she wouldn't have to look at his hazel eyes-what she had decided was her favorite part about him. He didn't mind so much, because it meant that he would be less likely to find himself trying to catch a glimpse of her when she wasn't paying attention.

They ate the exotic fruit, cool and sweet, then Nataliya licked her fingers clean. She laughed when she caught him doing the same.

"I can't imagine that's particularly _royal_ , highness," she goaded.

"Neither is going around with sticky hands. I had to make a choice."

She rolled her eyes at his serious tone, but caught herself smiling.

They discussed the plan. It was something risky and daring that they only had half of a real chance at pulling off successfully, which, Nikolai knew, meant that it would go off with at least a little bit of a hitch, as all his half-assed plans did.

By the time they finished, it was late, and the fire had curled down until it looked nearly asleep at their feet.

"Nataliya, what are you going to do when we arrive back in Ravka?" Nikolai asked, almost fearing the answer. They were lying on their backs again, looking at the stars, all of the constellations that twinkled down at them.

"I don't really know. I should start off with traveling, I think. I want to see the people. I can sojourn from place to place until I find somewhere to settle down, or someone to settle down with. I want to see the Tula especially. It will be strange to see the fold gone."

He noticed how she kept going back to the subject of the fold, back to one of the last damages from the Darkling that would not heal, and decided not to push her. Even the thought of her and the Darkling together stirred something in him that he would rather was left untouched.

"But you _do_ want to settle down? Why not come to the Little Palace? You have a lot that you could teach the children there, you know."

"I might... It's just..."

She stared upwards, tormented by her memories. She took a deep breath of the salty sea air, and let it take her away from those troubled times. To here and now, where she was safe, safe with Nikolai near enough to grab a hold of.

She couldn't though. It was her battle and hers alone, just as his was. But even the thought of him was enough to take her away from her memories of the Darkling.

"The Little Palace was always _his_ place, you know? I don't know if I can bring myself to stay there for long."

"Well, it would certainly be nice to have you around." He caught himself. "For consulting purposes, of course. The Triumvirate who's running the second army is doing an excellent job so far, and I'd hate to disrupt the balance by putting you fully in charge, but you would make an excellent teacher. Not quite as ruthless or ah- _senile_ as the last Grisha specialist we had, but you'll do in a pinch."

She smiled sincerely. "I'll think about it. I wish that I could promise more."

"No, take your time. Saints know we've got enough of it ahead of us."

He was referring to the weeks of open sea ahead of them where they would be trapped together on a tiny boat.

There was a brief pause.

"What about you, Nikolai? What do you plan to do when you go back to the throne?"

"Same as usual. Hold together the country. Try not to mess up too badly. Charm everyone into loving me. Throw some parties, send some ships sailing. The usual."

 _Oh, yeah, and get married. That too somewhere along the line._

"Will you work on your ship designs anymore?" She asked, changing the subject. She sounded sleepy, like she wasn't really listening to his response.

He shook his head ruefully. "No. Not much time to, I'm afraid. I'll leave that to the Materialki. A king must never spare a moment on himself."

"Is that so? Well, I suppose that must help," she mumbled, really drifting off.

"Help with what?" He asked, confused.

There were a few heartbeats before she answered. "The nightmares. You called out in your sleep last night. It wasn't any disturbance, really, I just figured that it was normal. I think that I must do it sometimes too."

 _Not quite escaped the nightmares as I had thought,_ Nikolai mused.

"Being busy does help," he admitted. "I hear it's normal among war victims."

"We're not ordinary war victims, are we, though?" Her words were slurring, unstructured opposite from her typically crisp (if slightly western accented) Ravkan.

"Not in the least," he assured.

"Good. The last thing I wanted was for you to be ordinary," she said, very as-a-matter-of-factly.

"Isn't that what I am compared to you though? An _otkazat'sya_?" He asked, whispering.

Next to the Darkling and Alina, that was just how he felt sometimes; a man with a pointy stick trying to fight against the Saints themselves.

He didn't quite expect an answer, and it was quite delayed in coming to him.

"Not having powers doesn't make you ordinary. You, highness, are something very, _very_ special. Something more powerful than any Darkling or Saint."

"Is that so?" He asked, a little amused. He wondered if she was completely sleep talking.

"Infinitely. I feel it in my heart that _you_ are going to change the world." She was definitely sleep-talking now. Her face was mostly relaxed, and her eyes were shut tight. Her breathing was so soft and slow that he knew there was no way she was conscious. She didn't sound the way she normally did either, just innocent and young; beautiful. "I know somehow that you will not leave me as the rest of them have. I know that I would not leave you for the sharks then, and that I still do not want to leave you now. I can feel my heart for the first time in a decade, and all that I can feel is you, Nikolai Lantsov."

Her words killed him slowly, a thousand cuts to his skin. He wanted nothing more than to move closer to her, to hold her tight and feel her heart from his chest, to breathe her in.

But he couldn't.

He couldn't be like the old king had been, going after any girl who he saw, wouldn't be that kind of man. He would not give himself to someone simply for the physicality of it; that held no appeal, not after he had seen what it had done to his so-called father. Nor could he draw on power or seduction to make someone love him, as the Darkling had. He would feel the deception more than the love, and it would bring him again to a darker place.

His people already loved him, but they loved only what they knew and saw; the charming young king who was saving them from ruin. The chivalrous hero returning home at last. They thought that they loved him.

They loved the legend, not the man; the savior, not the sufferer.

Even Alina did not love this part of him. What the pair of them had had was necessity; the urgent need to stop the Darkling and end the war.

 _Not for love. For Ravka._

What he felt for Nataliya was new and lovely; beautiful, but also fragile. He was afraid that it would shatter if they kept up, but he was more terrified by the thought that he would have to break it. Fragile things did not exist in the court at Os Alta. If he reached out now, he would have to stop himself before they arrived home. Would have to cut her away like trimming a tree in the spring. But he felt it would be cutting away too much, killing them both.

That was all too far away for now. Nikolai was tired and sore. He made up his mind when Nataliya started to call out softly, her nightmares taking her away after all.

 _"Please... Stop... What have you done?"_

 _Forget it. I'll never sleep if she keeps talking. And odds are we'll move by morning, or I'll be woken up by nightmares before she stirs again._

He gently soothed her, turning towards her, cradled her carefully as she slept. He softly and slowly wrapped his arm around, wary of making her nightmares worse.

She quieted slowly, and nuzzled into his shoulder, sighing contentedly.

 _Perhaps what we all need is someone to hold._ He thought, drifting off himself, feeling completely at peace for the first time in a long time.

 _And perhaps I've found the right person, at least until we have to part ways._

* * *

 _SO here's another chapter. Thanks for all of the positive reviews and such! They really are encouraging for me :) anyway, this was just a lil chapter because the next one is hopefully going to be longer. Also, I'm seriously procrastinating on my school work by posting this, so i didn't get the chance to edit yet. Oops! See you soon (with a little bit of luck) ~j._


	20. Not Even Mine to Consider

I woke up and nearly screamed.

With a simple, calming deep breath, I realized that the arms wrapped around me were not to choke or to torture.

 _This was not the Darkling._

Nikolai's touch was softer and warmer, careful and easy. His breathing was slow, as he must still have been asleep.

The sun was not quite up yet, still just a suggestion on the horizon.

He was warm and soft, somehow still smelled like freshly pressed laundry, hanging on to me carefully but firmly, like I was a tether to life. Our feet were tangled together, and I could feel his slow and steady breathing on the back of my neck.

His arms were the most comfortable place in the world to be, and it nearly killed me.

 _He must have reached out in his sleep._ I reasoned. _An accident is all that it is. In fact, I probably pulled him closer myself for want of a blanket. That's all._

Even if he _had_ chosen me, I could not abide it. He wasn't even mine to _consider._

But, it wasn't like he was going to immediately wake up.

I waited out the sunrise like a soldier on the morning of a battle.

I didn't want to have to push him away, but couldn't imagine the situation that would follow if I didn't. I nuzzled closer and took a deep breath, savoring the moment.

When the sun really began to rise, I carefully untangled myself and moved a few feet away.

Where we had previously been touching, the chill of the morning crept onto my skin and gave me goosebumps.

I cursed at the Saints for leaving him of all people here for me.

Who was I next to the king?

 _Nobody._

My name would be forgotten the day after I returned him home safely.

I would refuse to be treated like a toy or a treasured pet. Would not force myself to watch as he was married to another.

It would hurt too much.

So I would not return to the Little Palace, despite the invitation. I had nothing left in the world. It was too changed to be of any use to me. I would not have any family or friends, no chance at falling in love again, as I was too broken to be loved by any other than the one who I had already found.

 _There is nothing left for me._

The thought echoed painfully in my head and left nothing to chance.

I should have died a long time ago. If I had been meant to rise to power, then I already would have. Too late and too far gone.

 _There is nothing left for me._

 _But there is for Nikolai._

He'd talked about all of his successes and failures, what his challenges as king were.

The biggest problem was the lack of farm land, and he could not hope to grow the country while the threat of famine was so close. They needed the Tula valley's rich soil to be able to grow, to be able to really become a world power.

The stars faded over my head, as the light grew.

I knew what I had to do. I knew that I could reverse the Darkling's mistake, that I could remove the scar and give back what he had taken from the land. But it would cost me. More than I could survive giving.

It was all that I had left to give, all that I could do to leave my mark on the world. Before I would finally see my family again.

But I couldn't tell Nikolai.

I watched him while he slept. Nikolai was beautiful, but not as the Darkling had been. Not too perfect, small scars suggesting battles lost or lessons earned, skin just a bit sunburnt. A shade of a beard and scruffy hair left over from his shipwreck. Nothing ethereal about him, nothing pale and ghostly, or dark and mysterious. He was human and broken, and that was the only thing that I could ask for.

But he couldn't be mine.

When he stirred, I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep, wishing that I didn't feel so alone.

 _But at least I won't be alone for much longer._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The morning sun rose red, and this time, Nikolai was the first one awake (or so he thought). He was immediately grateful that they had moved apart, and that she hadn't woken up first.

He gently nudged her and suppressed his grin as she stirred and grumbled about having been woken up.

"Come on, darling. We've got a long day ahead of us."

" _Me_. I've got a long day ahead of _me_ ," she corrected, sitting up with a groan.

He knew that that would get her arguing. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and yawned.

"Are you sure? I could really be of service, I think."

She looked him up and down once, and then seemed to come to a conclusion.

"And you're _sure_ your side doesn't hurt?"

"Positive. And if I have to stay on this beach alone for another day, I think I'll go crazy." He replied.

She muttered something about twenty years while putting away her bedroll.

"Fine," she sighed, relenting, once both mats were stowed in a tree. "Get the gun and clean it. I can't have you unarmed. And if we find anyone, we stick to the plan. Agreed?"

"Anything you say, _Sankta_. Lead the way."

XXXXXXXX

Walking on water was not as Nikolai had expected it to be.

Nat had made it seem easy, and it turned out that it almost was, just like walking over wet grass. He was careful to keep up with her while they walked, to make it easier for her, and didn't speak, as she had asked him not to, apparently to better maintain her concentration. They walked past the tide until the water was still and the reef dropped off, and then they fell into the water, although Nikolai's pocket where the pistol rested remained perfectly dry.

 _Amazing._

Before he knew it, they were floating swiftly through a current, heading into open ocean, laughing and splashing the whole way to relieve the nervous tension that they both felt. It wasn't long before they had reached another island, this one littered with debris including the barrels that the crew had been floating on when he had last seen them. He told Nataliya as much, and she agreed that this was probably their best shot at finding anyone left to find. That this would be the last chance.

 _Six good men dead, and once again it could be considered his own fault._

She led him through the island a little ways to a path that had been cut through rock leading upwards.

Throughout the whole hike, Nikolai was amazed by the beauty of the tropical paradise, by the massiveness of the rocks and the wildness and green of the trees. It was wickedly hot, and despite frequent water breaks, Nikolai was nearly constantly thirsty.

The hill (or perhaps it was a small mountain?) was steep-steep enough to make even walking hard, and Nikolai couldn't help but curse the sedentary style of life at the palace. There wasn't much of a path. It was more that Nataliya was leading them up the slope of volcanic gravel in whatever way she thought was best. They took an especially long time because every step felt like it would either lead to a slide down the entire slope or would turn an ankle.

But it almost didn't matter. For the first time in a while, he and Nataliya had a distraction from each other and their past, or even their futures; the only thing lingering was the nervous anticipation about discovering what had happened to his crew.

The end of the hike was now nearing, as the sound of crashing water and a scent of salt returned to the air. Once the pair arrived at the top of the cliffs, they would find the answers they had been looking for.

* * *

 _Well. Here's another chapter, and I'm hoping to post the next bit within the hour. Same thing as the last couple posts applies. Lack of editing, excuses, excuses. The usual. But this time I really do have a championship meet this week, along with the fact that my German grade is crumbling because of an especially deranged teacher. I'm telling you, that class is the most terrifying part of my day. Hope you all have a good one, and look forward to a quick part two!_


	21. A Pirate's Life for Me

I wasn't sure yet if I liked bringing Nikolai with me.

He was certainly good to have around, as we had spent the time on shore here talking and laughing and telling stories.

But, at the same time, I had to concentrate on what I was doing in the water more than usual, and had to make sure that I didn't step out of line with the king. Plus, he was very much on edge, probably seeing as if our search came up empty, it would mean that his crew was really gone forever.

On the top of the island that we stood on now, I could see a clearing a ways inland, complete with a hastily abandoned camp, and a fire smoldering in a shallow pit.

 _Someone has been here recently._

I scanned the other direction, and saw what was little more than a blot on the horizon, a ship, moving away quite swiftly.

I pointed it out to Nikolai and he took a long look after it. It was a clipper ship, one that couldn't have left the island more than a few hours ago. We were _very_ high up, and the sheer height nearly made me dizzy.

Were Nikolai's crew alive? Were they on the ship? I owed it to him to find out, just as I'd promised. And he was chomping at the bit to go after them.

"What do you think?" He asked, while I gazed back at the water.

"I think we'd best get after them. Follow me," I replied, going very close to the edge.

Nikolai momentarily balked, and pulled me back from the edge by my arm.

 _Not so indifferent, are we, Highness?_

"Nat, what are you-"

"I know what I'm doing. It'll take too long to get back into the water if we go back down the cliffs the other way," I gestured back the way we'd come, and turned again to face the ocean, while Nikolai stood beside me, still uncertain. The sky and water were both a rich blue. It would have been a perfect day for flying.

 _Or falling._

"Now, are you coming, or are you waiting here while _I_ get your crew?"

This seemed to make up his mind.

"Well, Saints, I guess I'm coming."

I grinned in what I hoped didn't look too much like madness.

"All right."

"Are you- are you _quite_ sure that this is _safe?"_ He asked, leaning over the side of the cliff and running a hand through his hair, which was now looking rather windswept.

"Since when was your first concern _safety,_ Mr. Crashes-Flying-Things-Into-Oceans-and-Kills-Sharks-With-A-Hunting-Knife? Seriously, Nikolai, who needs 'safe' when you've got both royalty and diving power on your side? Come here, and take my hand so the water can catch both of us. DO you trust me?"

An instant later, my hand was covered by Nikolai's.

"More than I trusted that shark, at least," he replied, cheekily.

The water wasn't deep at the base of the cliff, and it was riddled with rocks.

It was perfectly logical for Nikolai to be worried about the fall. Or more likely, the landing.

"Don't worry. I've got this. On three," I supplied. He was grinning like he was insane, adn I was sure my expression matched. Those days as a pirate must have prepared him for situations like this. My preparation had consisted of similar cliff dives, though all admittedly from much smaller heights.

"One... Two... _Three_!" As we jumped, I enjoyed the fall for a moment before summoning the water. Nikolai beside me was screaming and laughing at once, like he was having the time of his life. I wondered if this was what it felt like to fly, with the air rushing past and the salty spray misting over me.

I brought the water level higher and made the sea catch us like a pillow, warm and soft.

Once we were safe, the screams died, and the laughing took over in both of us.

"I need to do that more often," Nikolai grinned.

"I'm sure that they can arrange that for you, highness," I smirked, trying to hide my genuine smile. "But we really should get going. Ready?"

"If you are," he replied.

The current took us to the ship in only a few minutes, while we ducked under water to avoid being seen. Not all vessels were friendly, and by the size and build of this ship, I feared the worst. And I knew Nikolai did too.

While under, I formed a bubble of air around our heads, and although we had to sit fairly close together, we could breathe and talk under the surface where we weren't at risk of being seen or heard. It was something that I had done a few times by myself, but had never needed to practice with anyone else.

"Slavers?" He asked, looking around intently at the water that was being kept from touching us. I knew he was trying to calculate the angles and pressure and whatever else it was that made my trick work.

I was just content knowing that I could pull it off, knowing the feel from careful practice and experimentation, not caring particularly about the science.

"I think so," I replied, absently watching the small school of fish that was swimming past, like diamonds glinting in the sea.

"And my crew?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, but I'd imagine anyone trapped on that boat would rather _not_ be there."

"Let's figure out more before before we go that far," he chuckled. "Don't want to go after any innocent merchers just because their ship is the right size and they forgot to fly colors."

"I wasn't implying that we should attack," I argued.

"No. Just wielding the blade of justice," he smirked.

"Well, I am a Saint," I replied shrugging. "And watch your tongue, highness. You're in my kingdom now." I let the water collapse around Nikolai for a moment, and he had to take a quick breath to avoid swallowing water. He glared at me, his eyes glinting in the strange light; a mixture of surprising amusement and begrudging admiration.

 **XXXXX**

Popping to the surface, I could just hear the sailors on deck while they went about their work.

"New lot we picked up on that island lookin' fresh, eh?" Asked one.

"I'll say," replied another, this one slick as oil. "A few of them even right proper Grisha this time around. Make us a pretty stack of _kruge_ when we get to market."

"Doesn't it bother you, though, that they had the Royal seal on them?" Asked a third, this one young, more nervous. _Weaker._

"If it don't botha the Captain, it don't botha me," said greaser.

"Captain's dull as dirt and half as smart. Plus, he don't share half of what we work for. Out on the open sea all our lives, and we don't see a penny for it."

They went on like this for some time, predominately just complaining (as that is what most people spend most of their time doing), or saying rather repulsive things about what they wished to do to some of their captives.

Nikolai looked like the things they were saying were a personal offense to him.

These were dangerous men, (they had to be if they'd managed to capture trained Grisha) and yet, they really seemed like... _morons_. I knew that we had to free the people on board, and decided that I couldn't wait for nightfall to do it. By then, the ship would have gone too far for us to get back to the island before getting too exhausted. I flashed a signal for us to make a move.

"You'd better get something to cover your face in case you get recognized," I whispered.

Nikolai nodded and got busy tying a bandana into a mask of sorts.

Close enough. I did the same with a cloth of my own and warned Nikolai that he would have to tread water once the distraction started because I would have my hands full.

 _Everyone knows that sailors are superstitious._ I summoned clouds of thunder to cover the sun, and sent an eerie fog around the ship.

 _It might just help speed things along._

Freezing the boat's progress more effectively than dropping anchor, I waited for the crew to respond.

Immediately, a stir rose up among the sailors.

"What in the blazes?!"

"Bloody _Hell_ -"

"This is coming out of nowhere."

"I told you we was going against the Saints. _It'll be on our heads next, mates_."

This particular comment seemed to draw a full frenzy into the crowd. I could sense movement on the deck, some men dropping to knee and praying, most just standing, wary, or drawing weapons. It was a well manned vessel, probably containing abou

* * *

t fifty crew members. If I just attacked without a plan, I'd most certainly be shot before I could free anything.

The buzz on the ship died suddenly.

"What's all this fuss about? And why the hell aren't we moving?" Everyone froze as though the devil himself had set foot on deck. A heavy scent of liquor and expensive perfume rose on the air.

It took a moment for anyone to get the guts to speak up.

"Captain, we've don't know why we've stopped. This fog-"

" _DAMN THE FOG!_ YOU LAZY LOUTS ARE JUST LOOKING FOR ANOTHER EXCUSE TO BE BEATEN." Roared the captain.

Nikolai seemed to take particular offense to the captain, and his glare only worsened as the slave trader mentioned beatings.

"What the hell are _you_ supposed to be?" The captain sneered at one of the kneelers, one that now seemed more uncertain about his faith.

"Sir, I'm sorry, Sir, but it's the Saints-"

The captain gave an exaggerated laugh.

"Solokov, do I _look_ like a man who gives a damn about your stupid Saints?"

"N-no, Captain, sir. Not really, sir."

"THEN GET UP OFF YOUR ASS, AND GET. US. MOVING!" The captain bellowed, landing a solid kick in the side of the kneeling man.

I realized that I was about to miss my opportunity to catch their attention, and so I acted.

 _It's been a long time since I've done this_. I mused. _Hope I can still get it right._

With a deep breath, I focused on the blood of the captain.

His second kick stopped in mid air, and he was thrown off balance, only managing to stay on his feet because I was holding him up.

"WHAT IN THE BLAZES?!" He bellowed, as his arms and legs were forced down, bucking my control long enough only to call out.

On the far side of the deck, I began to build a pile of water up from the ocean, the head of a monstrous sea serpent to the men on board the vessel. They immediately turned and began screaming; some shouting to fire, and others simply in fear.

Nikolai looked at me, confused. Over the noise from the deck, he chanced his question.

"What exactly did you _do_?"

I realized how strange I must have looked in that moment; treading water with two hands above my head, one clenched in a fist and the other writhing in the air.

"I'm making a distraction, and controlling the captain," I replied gesturing to each corresponding hand with my head.

" _Controlling?_ I've never heard of an Etheralki-"

"Yeah, well, I'm special. Can we please do this another time? Kind of busy at the moment," I strained, trying not to lose control. He flinched apologetically.

The men on deck drew all sorts of guns and weapons, and fired at the water, which was now fully formed as the head of a dragon, writhing and swooping down towards them at times, occasionally carrying them off into the sea, where they either tried to swim or drowned. I made sure the current carried the rest of them out to open sea.

Their bullets and arrows and swords did nothing against the creature; it wasn't _merzost_ \- not alive, but merely a liquid puppet, water pulled together to do my will.

When they had yelled themselves into a frenzy, and the creature had taken the most dangerous men over the side, I drew us up on to a wave, and we quietly rose to the deck. The captain was still cemented in place, and I quietly snuck up next to him, noticing for the first time his rather unusually thin and sharp looking nose and long, curly Kaelish-red hair. He jumped out of his skin when I spoke.

"Quite a crew you've got here, captain," I remarked.

He tried to move his mouth to respond (no doubt to curse me out) but he couldn't manage to speak. Nikolai watched my movements attentively, only casting a quick glance at the water monster.

" _So_. I've heard who you are, and where your cargo's headed, and I must say... I don't approve. Seems a little bit _illegal_ to me. So here's what we're going to do. You follow my orders and submit, and lead your men to the brig, where you will lock yourselves in. You will leave the key with me. At the first sign of trouble, I'll kill you. Savvy?"

His muscles strained like he was trying to nod.

Taking the pistol from his side and tossing it to Nikolai, I released the Captain's head until he could speak at least, and let the water monster submerge slowly, as though it had only gone just below the surface.

The men all looked relieved, and congratulated each other briefly, before realizing that we were waiting for their attention.

"All right, men. Your captain here knows the drill. Don't try anything. You're headed below decks to be locked in the brig. _No arguments_ ," Nikolai said.

He sounded new, more commanding than I was used to. A little bit mad. A sort of captain of his own. His threat played on the lines.

Not _'obey or I kill you'._

 _No arguments._ Almost like a 'test me if you dare, but anyone with half a brain cell won't.' A different side to the man I knew, perhaps.

"Well how about _this_ for an argument?" One of the slavers called, far off to my left. He held up a pistol.

The instant that he shot at Nikolai, I blocked the bullet, and followed through on the promise. The Cut would not be blocked, not by an _Otkazat'sya_ like him. The deck was painted red with his blood.

 _No arguments._

With the benefit of hindsight, I realize now that that might _not_ have been the best move. I think it just pissed them off worse.

With the death of their comrade, though, they were shocked for only the briefest moment.

The men stood, stunned, with open mouths, but quickly shook off their surprise, not waiting for us to make the first move.

They moved in from all directions, and I immediately worried about being cornered. I knocked two snipers out of the crow's nest, and sent the three others advancing towards me into the ocean. No one else made the mistake of trying to get closer. They fired on sight. Forced to drop control of the captain, he rolled away in the chaos. I managed to throw a wall of ice between us and the bullets, and brought slavers down while hiding behind it.

Nikolai now had two pistols, and shot with both hands. He was firing carefully to conserve ammo, but with incredible accuracy.

The miniature battle seemed to go on forever, even though my distraction had tossed most of the best fighters into the water. It seemed that although Nikolai was shooting well, he wasn't shooting to kill.

By the time there were only a few men left, they all were eager for peace, and laid down their arms and called for parley.

I dropped the ice walls, and waked to secure the prisoners. Nikolai followed.

"Nice job, _Sankta_ ," he commended.

"Not half bad yourself, highness." I replied, picking up a rope from a pile on the deck and passing it to Nikolai to get started tying up the prisoners.

He turned and started to work on binding them.

I started to feel a familiar pull on my throat, realizing only too late what was going on.

Spinning on my heel, I couldn't so much as call out, because the breath was pulled from my lungs. I fell to my knees. The captain stood behind me with his fist clenched. A Corpralki. I might have gasped in surprise if I could breathe.

"My men think you're a Saint, little girl. I don't believe in Saints," he opined, beginning a saunter across the deck, stopping a few feet from me and making an appraising sort of look.

"I do believe in _blood_ though. And until I need yours, you'll make me an _awfully_ happy man, I think," he grinned, showing off two gold canine teeth, and pulling my bandanna down to hold my chin with his free hand.

"You're making a mistake," I managed to gasp.

"Mistakes are for fools," he replied, smirking.

A shot rang out, and the captain dropped his summoning hand as blood blossomed across his knuckles.

It clashed horribly with his hair.

"Then I suppose I should count you as the greatest fool I've ever met," Nikolai called, with a smirk of his own.

Then, before Nikolai could react, the heartrender's other hand was up, and it was Nikolai down on the deck.

"And who are _you_ supposed to be? Her _sidekick_?" The pirate asked.

From the look on Nikolai's face, you would have thought that he'd just been told his shoes didn't match.

I lifted my hands and froze the captain. I forced him to drop Nikolai.

"That's _enough_ from you, thanks. You all right, Nikolai?"

"No worse for wear. And you?"

"Never better. Let's get moving. Some of these men are bleeding."

"Funny how she cares about your men more than you do, eh?" Nikolai asked the captain, restraining the man before the rest of his crew, kicking him in the ribs for good measure.

"Don't bother," I replied, while Nikolai roughed the man to his feet. I lifted my hand and the captain walked forward a few steps. Nikolai raised an eyebrow.

I replied with a look that said _now's not the time._

The rest of the prisoners had begun to tie themselves up, and it was one of these, the man who had been kicked by the captain, who showed us around and gave us the captain's ring of keys, before locking himself and his crew mates into the brig.

Once I checked that the whole ship was clear, and that the captain was securely locked away, we could finally see to the prisoners.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

She came down the stairs, and immediately began to gag on the scent of them, thankful for the spare cloth over her nose to keep out the smell. He followed her, and recoiled, not at the smell, but at the state of the interior of the ship. It looked to be the work of a Fabrikator, and the wooden interior was covered almost entirely by murals made of only fish bones and shark teeth.

It was grotesque.

The prisoners below were all in various states of disarray. Some were hardly conscious. Those that were watched their saviors with wide eyes. They were hungry and thirsty and in desperate need of a bath. The rescuers wasted no time in opening one of the giant cages holding prisoners.

They took the time to free each cell, to take stock of who most desperately needed help, to soak in the prisoners' gratitude and praise.

Many of them were praying and giving thanks to the Saints.

 _Sankta Inna strikes again._

Nataliya was suddenly glad that she was covering her face with the rag. It offered some form of mystery, of privacy, among these strangers.

Finally, in the cell at the bow of the ship, the Grisha prisoners were bound especially. Their hands were chained so that they could hardly move, and they looked exhausted and hungry. Immediately, some of the crew recognized their king. A young girl with moonlight-grey eyes, and coarse brown hair was the first to see through his disguise.

"Moi _T_ -"

"Hush. Now's not the time. Go tend to the other prisoners if you can. We'll talk afterwards."

With a brief nod of understanding, the party went to join the rest of the freed prisoners which were healthy enough to move who had congregated out on deck.

The saviors joined them there, once they had searched the Captain's cabin for any important materials or supplies that would need for their own return journey. Maps.

Those who had come to the deck were those well enough to walk; a good forty people, a combination of Grisha and Otkazat'sya. She addressed them, still careful to hide as much of her face as she could.

"See to the injured and hungry. The moment that we can, we're going to get back to Ravka and the king's men will offer you sanction there. The slavers in the hold need a constant watch, and will be handed over to the government and prosecuted. These waters are full of pirates and the like. Make haste."

"We will send you on your way, but will not make the trip with you. The members of the first and second armies will lead you, and will be given full jurisdiction on this vessel until it makes landfall. Are there any problems with this arrangement?"

There was a pause where no one spoke up.

"Good. I will now hold counsel with anyone who manned the _Hummingbird_ prior to this vessel."

Three followed them up the to the bow of the ship, further into the sun that had long since returned.

Nataliya stood back a few feet and watched the reunion, plenty of hugs and claps on the back to go around.

"What happened? Is this all that's left?" Nikolai prompted.

The girl with moonlight eyes stepped forward, her grin dropping at the thought of her lost comrades. She couldn't have been more than sixteen, but it seemed like all the rest of the prisoners already looked up to her.

"All that's left. Alexi died before we made it to land. Anton afterwards. How did you-"

"Don't worry about me. I've still got a plan. Just get back to Ravka. Get these people to safety. I need to talk to Vladimir." Nikolai replied, turning to one of the Squallers and taking him towards the rest of the liberated _otkazat'sya_ prisoners, cloth still over his mouth to conceal his face.

Nataliya was left with the other two.

"Are you Grisha?" She asked the girl.

The girl gave a single nod. "Materialki. I worked the lines on the _Hummingbird_ and did repairs."

"Then the others here will listen to you. Set a heading due northeast, and you'll make landfall in Os Kervo soon. Don't stop before then. Can you manage?" Nataliya asked.

"Absolutely. But... Who are you? Why isn't Nikolai coming with us?"

"I'm Nobody. And don't worry about Nikolai. He has a plan," Nataliya replied.

"That's exactly why I'm worried."

Nataliya laughed. "Don't worry. I'll keep him safe."

The young Grisha sighed, and smiled. "All right. I assume that Vladmir's getting the gist of the plan right now?"

"Yes. But I'll fill you in, too. It all starts just before you make landfall..."

 **XXXXX**

The sun had begun to set by the time they said their goodbyes.

"Are you ready?" Nikolai asked.

"I think the proper question is; are _you_ ready, highness?"

"Absolutely."

"Then let's get out of here."

The pair stepped swiftly up onto the railing of the ship and looked back at the waiting crowd, waving one last time.

Then they bounded over the side of the ship, back into the sea.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _TA-DA! Look at that. Two chapters in one night. Still minimally edited, but it's a start, eh? Let's talk about the pirate captain. Inspired by real life characters, and whatnot. Let's talk about Vladmir. Shoutout to my BFF for that name that she stole from a TV show. Thank you all (double since I forgot last time, AHHH) for reading and reviewing! Have a lovely day!_


	22. Final Nights

They arrived back at the island much later, when the moon hung high, and the stars were shining.

Nataliya was exhausted, and could barely pull herself out of the water. Nikolai somehow noticed and didn't mind lending a hand. He started a fire and cooked the rather large fish that she provided, while she took a turn in the hot spring.

She returned smelling like tropical flowers and looking much refreshed, and he dealt out her share of the dinner. Using her power, as with any Grisha, left Nataliya ravenous.

"It's a good thing that your cooking is so much better than mine," she laughed between bites.

"It is indeed," he grinned. She elbowed him and giggled at the mock insult.

They drew in a breath almost as one and continued to talk as they finished their meal, picking around thin fish bones that were tossed into the fire when they were discovered.

By the time the meal ended, both had things that they wanted to talk about, but neither one had the conviction to begin the hard conversation.

Instead, Nataliya contemplated her own thoughts out loud.

"It's going to be strange to leave here. It's so warm and lovely and free."

"I know. I would be hard pressed to think of a better place to be stranded."

She giggled a little bit.

"I'll miss the fruit."

"And the fish." He put in.

"And the colorful birds," she added, as a small flock had assembled in the trees nearby, looking for scraps.

"That's right. I've seen some of them in the jungle, too. They're beautiful, aren't they?" He mused.

She nodded in reply.

"They're so wild. So free. I might want to take one with me, except that I don't think I could bear confining it," she explained.

"I understand. Something like that deserves freedom. It can't be contained."

"The problem in the long run isn't that it wouldn't be free, though," she replied. "It wouldn't fit in. It isn't built for the cold weather back in Ravka. If I let it free there, it would die."

Nikolai murmured his understanding.

He considered the idea that it wasn't just the bird. The bird was Nataliya, and she was worried about what would come with returning home. He smiled reassuringly.

"You and I both know that we wouldn't let that bird die just from being too cold. After all, I think a shark is much more threatening than a chill," he assured. She laughed.

"I suppose so."

The sound of waves crashing in the background and the noises of night creatures coming from the jungle was beginning to become very familiar.

Nikolai too, realized that leaving the island would be a sadness for him. He loved the lack of responsibility, the carefree nature of what was nearly a vacation.

 _A vacation that's cost the lives of two of your men,_ he reminded.

His work was not done. Saints knew that he really needed to be getting home.

And yet... Some part of him knew that he could waste a lifetime here on this beach, with this lost maiden, enjoying the sun and the sand, and the salty breeze; the crystalline blue ocean.

He would have really enjoyed that.

But at the same time, he was the King of Ravka, and there was a plan to be put into action.

Just one last night.

"So have I told you yet of the time that I colored my brother's hair green?"

XXXXX

 _So this one's just a lil filler chapter, so the next one will hopefully be a little bit bigger and will hopefully get something important done._

 _Thanks as usual, for reading and reviewing! Also, I'm sorry that there was such a large gap since the last chapter! Since school's starting to slow down, i should have more time to write coming up. We'll see._


	23. Preparations

The next day was work. The worst kind of work.

It wasn't something that you could challenge yourself to be good at, or anything that you could let your mind stray away from. It was moving; sorting and carrying huge boxes of supplies from the jungle onto the beach.

All morning, they loaded and unloaded stock while they deliberated the architecture of their ship.

How many of one thing that they would need, how much of it they could bring without being weighed down.

She insisted on bringing a stock of fresh water for him in case something happened to her, and he likewise insisted that she give him paper and allow him to write a document saying that she was still under the protection of the crown even if something happened to him on the voyage.

Both of them hoped that they wouldn't need these emergency measures.

By noon, the supplies had been laid out in the sand, and anything that they weren't bringing along was stowed away in a cave far enough inland that it wouldn't flood.

The took a break in the shade of a tree with some fruit, and Nataliya set a soft mist spraying gently over them.

"Saints. I don't know how you've dealt with this heat for all of these years," Nikolai complained. She liked the way he complained. His voice went all aghast, like the entire universe had pulled together to make his life harder.

 _Dramatic loon._

"I usually slept during the day, or found somewhere that it was dark. I worked at night. Except when it cooled down a little, or got cloudy. Some years are different than others, depending on the currents and air flow," she commented idly, peeling her fruit and freezing the juice inside and doing the same for his.

"How did you see, though? Did you have to carry a torch?" He inquired, pacified momentarily by the icy treat.

"Erm, no. Not exactly," she stalled, nibbling on an edge of it carefully.

"What do you mean?"

Most of the time that they'd talked before, it hadn't been so much about her. But Nikolai was definitely curious, and she felt bad not telling him. They had grown close enough that trust wasn't so much an issue; Nataliya knew that Nikolai meant her no harm. It was just a matter of finding a way to explain her unique situation. Not to mention how strange she felt talking about her power. She was different, and she knew it.

And, although she trusted Nikolai, she couldn't help but notice a strange quality about his inquiries; they were very nearly assessing, determining exactly how useful she was, or what kind of asset she would prove. The questions weren't curiosity, they were tactics. Although she knew he would never use her as a weapon (without her consent, of course), she also knew that the thought to do so must have come to him.

But that was all still too far away. He wasn't just a strategist; right now, he was a scientist, and she could tell that like any true scientist, all of the questions were nearly killing him.

"Well, you know those days when the air feels really heavy, or even when there's fog?"

"Yes, of course. Humidity," he replied.

"Exactly. There's water in the air," she said, snapping her fingers to pull a small sphere of it from nowhere. "And I can sense the water. So wherever the water's not-"

"Something else _is_. Genius."

"Hardly. It's more common sense than anything," she smiled, in spite of herself.

"Is that how you manipulate humans too? By the water in their blood?"

She paused, surprised that he was willing to talk about such a grotesque topic with such confidence.

"Yes. It's hard, and I have to be extremely careful though. The human body is so complex..."

She trailed off and he laughed a bit, almost in musing.

"You're truly extraordinary. What you're doing... It's blurring the lines between classes of Grisha. Between Healers and Heartrenderers and even Squallers," he started, showing his excitement plainly. "You have the potential to change what it means to be Grisha."

"Well, that might be saying a bit much, but thank you nonetheless. I think that classes are just a more evolved way to focus on one subject. It's too difficult to learn everything about every class, so for most Grisha, learning just one part of the small science is necessary. It wasn't for me though."

"Why is that, do you think?" He wondered aloud, eating his fruit as well.

"Oh, I don't know. Probably had nothing to do with the fact that I was taught by an ancient being with immense power though."

He laughed.

"Probably didn't have anything to do with that at all, actually. I'm assuming that the sea whip wasn't necessary at all. Just you being clever."

This time she laughed.

"Highness, you're really underestimating that sea serpent then. I wouldn't have lasted ten minutes without what it taught me. And besides. It's time to get some rest. We're setting up the boat and leaving at sundown, and we need to go through the night if we want to stay on schedule."

"I love nap time. It's the only time when the nobles leave the court and some peace and quiet is restored," he laughed.

Nataliya rolled her eyes.

"Whatever you say, highness."

XXX

 _So, what I decided is that I'm going to post a smallish chapter of this every day until i run out of what I've pre-written. It should serve to light a fire under my ass for writing some new stuff, and although they'll be smaller, they'll also be every day (ish, something might come up that I can't account for). Don't get your hopes up too high though, this means that the chapters will probably be much smaller. I know how I want this story to go, it'll just be a matter of getting it written. See you tomorrow! Thanks for reading and reviewing! xx_


	24. Napmares

They'd found a dark and cool sea cave to rest in, and Nataliya was asleep before she knew it.

Her dreams were strange. They were filled with a sense of urgency; a strange pull that was a want not of her own.

She was not herself in this dream, instead someone deeper than she herself was; someone whose mind was sharper and crueler, more determined and... More desperate.

It was a time long ago, when things were older, more ancient. The people around her wore rough spun clothes, and even the poor had shoes. This was a time of prosperity for most, a time of peace after civilization had first emerged out of the world and had settled quietly. Small villages weren't united or loyal to any other than their own homes and hearths, and yet they were too far away from each other to have cause to fight. People were spread out among the land like a small number of sheep in a large pasture, without a shepherd, but with no wolves on any horizon.

The woman in her dream is looking for something. She searches far and wide looking for... What exactly it is, the woman does not know. But she knows that when she finds it, it will be clear. And she knows why she turns each failure away.

They do not meet her standards.

The men who attempt to gain her attention are imperfect; they are too weak, too ugly, perhaps even, too kind. They do not understand her. They fear her. They are jealous of her. There is something dark about her; something in the way the shadows move to her advantage; the cloak that the night becomes around her shoulders.

She is, as Nataliya is, older then she looks, and some of the cleverer ones can see it in her eyes.

Though they are all Grisha, they still call her a witch.

And that is the cruelty of this world. Though there is peace for those who are considered to be mortal, if they should show any chance of being exceptional, they would be considered against the Saints; a dark figure akin to the likes of the demons in Hell. The witches in the north are hunted and burned, so that their evil might not taint the earth from which the wellspring comes. The beasts of the south are taken apart, so that their pieces may not come together to be born again onto the earth. Even where peace might once have been found, the eyes of neighbors are watchful and weary of dark magic, careful to scorn any witches that should live among them.

The people here who have stumbled among a happy time in the history of their country are not willing to share it. Peasants and nobles alike cast away any who show true power (and many who do not), and pursue them with the threat of death.

She must sometimes run from them, and the curses they bring. The maledictions to her name ring in her ears as she flees them. But she pays no mind.

This is a woman who has seen far worse. One who has been the cause of the deaths of those who she loves, one who had been brought to feel that she was unimportant to her family while seeking their love, only to become their downfall.

That was her darkest time.

But she has risen from that place, and now seeks a child. One who she can love and raise to be greater than herself.

One who can save them all. Who can cast out the weak ones, those who are ordinary, in the way that the exceptional have been cast out themselves.

So that she can _finally_ be truly safe.

She wanders the world in search of power and strength in a sire, going from north to south, from east to west, keeping mostly to herself, seeking those with gifts like hers who have hidden themselves away. There, she may find brief sanction.

In the fairytales of the towns and cities, nestled in the hills and valleys where no one would ever think to look otherwise, she searches for someone who she might deem worthy.

She wants, _needs_ nothing of these men but the child that they might give to her, should they be the one of her choice. But she sometimes can't help the optimism; the thought that true love might await her.

Until she crushes those thoughts.

She is picky; taking her time to search for the most powerful, the one who will give her child all the power in the world, what he will need to bring the Grisha to their rightful place.

The power to make right what was done to her family all those years ago.

The man himself will be nothing but dust; gone in the blink of an eye. She and his child will outlive him and those like him by a hundred, a thousand years.

Nataliya can feel the pain behind these thoughts, but nothing further. Not the names of those who must surely be dead now, not why this woman feels it is her responsibility. Nataliya does not understand it. But she continues searching.

Until she finds him.

He is the most powerful man she has ever so much as heard of; a Heartrenderer who has no match in this world or the next. He can do things she has never heard of any Grisha doing before; playing with the bodies of his victims like puppets on strings, forcing them to move against their will.

He can stop hearts without being able to see his victims.

It is impressive.

She knows that he will suffice, that with her power and his combined, something that the world has never seen before will be created.

His heart only seals her conviction. He is bold and decisive, yet strangely thoughtful, and quick on the draw. He wields his power over the other Grisha in his village, as a leader should.

The only thing that worries her is a small spark of madness in his eyes, and how he so easily hides it from those around him.

He does not so easily hide his feelings for her.

She is an artist in the ways of seduction; a true siren if there ever was one. She knows the tools in her arsenal, and that her looks are only one of them. She can take on victims as she chooses, the batting of eyelashes here, and charmed glances there.

But the woman who has now found her final target, and she knows exactly how to catch him.

It will be easy for her.

With long, dark hair and a black dress which captures her perfect figure, she knows she has already caught his eye.

It is only a matter of time before the pair are sneaking off from the rest of the group to find a quiet place where they can be alone, and once they are sure that they are out of earshot, they draw together as only lovers do; gazing into each others' eyes deeply.

Nataliya's dream fades from her as the couple's lips join. But as she loses the scene around her, she can still feel the power of the couple thrumming through the air around her, along with the promise of what their union will bring.

XXXXX

Nikolai shot up from his nightmare with his heart hammering and his throat feeling dry.

It was one of the typical scenes that he knew to be memories, with the world flying below him in short clips, the grey landscape below him distant and cloudy.

He is following Alina.

Their small party on the _Bittern_ is easy to follow. They fly like a wounded duck, compared to his grace and simplicity in the air, even while he is still awkward in his new form.

Eventually, they land their ship, and begin to unpack, and he lands behind them in the trees, watching.

Waiting.

For what, he does not know, but he seeks the simplicity and stillness that _she_ brings to his life; the knowledge that she is a savior, and that perhaps she can save _him_ fueling his desire to meet her again.

But all of the people with her make him nervous. Part of it is the beast; skittish around humans with their bright light and sharp steel. But it is deeper than just that.

He does not want anyone to see him like this. He knows that he is a disgrace. His clothes are in rags. He is not himself, not the king here. That he _just_ needs Alina.

So he watches. And waits.

Finally, Alina wanders off to be alone, as she often does. She comes to the woods, picking up dry kindling as she comes, the sun falling behind her, sending her white hair into a flurry of color.

She stops when she is immersed in the woods, just below where he is perched, as though she senses something amiss.

All of the small forest noises have been gone since he arrived, scared into silence by the massive darkness that he brings with him.

In the silence, he can hear her heart beat rising slowly, her senses alight with nerves. She peers between the trunks, looking for the source of the stillness.

And he lifts his wings.

Her eyes shoot up to look at him, and he can see the terror in them, even from so far away.

He catches her staring at him, at the blood that he just now realizes he is covered with, at the monster that he has become.

" _Nikolai?_ " She whispers, incredulous. Her voice is low in some kind of horrible awe, shaking in what is probably fear.

He flinches at the sound of it, so human, so… _small_. She is terrified of what he has become, and suddenly he is too.

Inside, the real, the _human_ part of him begins to scream. He can feel now how horrendous, how hideous he is, and he wants nothing more than to hide. From her. From the world. From _himself._

He has hurt her.

" _Nikolai, wait-_ " she calls, but he pays no heed. He knows her true feelings now.

If he stays…

The hunger is already consuming him again, and he wrestles with the idea of turning around and taking her. He fights it with the same string of thoughts.

 _I can't hurt her any more. I can't. I can't do that to Alina. Not to Alina. Not Alina. Alina. Alina. Alina. Don't hurt Alina._

He is gone.

As he flees, he can feel the darkness taking him, and it only grows with Alina's scream, echoing in the southern wind.

Many of his dreams are like this; shattered fragments of his time as a monster, mostly only the highlights and lowlights, the times he found himself again through the haze of darkness.

They are horrible.

The nightmare-memories reminded him of his worst times; of his near undoing. _In fact, they may still yet be my undoing,_ he sighed.

He looked at Nataliya, sleeping peacefully a few feet away, her hair drifting quietly in a light breeze, and her chest slowly rising and falling, lips tracing the ghosts of a word.

 _Unless_ she _is._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _Okay, so here's the next part! Yes, Nat's dreams do have a certain likeness to a certain lady from the series, if you know who I'm talking about. And, Nikolai's backstory is kinda making me incredibly sad. Well, I guess that's it for now. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! xx_


	25. Goodbye

When there was about an hour until the sun would begin to set, they set out quietly through the jungle.

Nataliya was in mood of quiet reflection, not her usual self at all. Her eyes seemed to be taking in their walk as on would watch a dying loved one-memorizing as many details as she could before it was time to leave.

When they reached the tree line and the beach stretched out before them, she stopped in her tracks.

Beside her, Nikolai paused, caught up not in the scenery of the paradise, but in the girl at his side.

When she turned to look at him, there were tears in her sea-blue eyes. He couldn't help but let her fall into his arms, to embrace her and hold her carefully while she cried.

Xx

She was a silent crier; he could only feel it through her soft shudders and the tears bleeding through his shirt.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, pausing after a while. "I didn't think... I thought it would be easier."

She was still close to him, looking up into his eyes.

"It's all right. There's nothing easy about this venture. The best thing to do is keep your chin up, and keep pressing on." He softly lifted her chin which made her smile a bit. She looked less sad now, more... grateful. Enchanting, actually-

Then he forced himself to pull away, and she stepped back hastily, realizing how improper they were being.

"Thank you," she replied, curtly realizing the same.

"Of course," he responded, equally as cool.

"Then let's begin."

She led the way to her set of supplies, careful to avoid the pattern drawn on the sand, right up against the newly risen tide.

The design was the brainchild of the pair of them; the best that they could come up with, given their limited resources. Nikolai stood back while Nataliya began to work, drawing the water from the sea and carefully through the air, filtering out the impurities and casting them aside.

Slowly, water formed together as ice, making beams and braces that looked like some sort of strange rib cage, lifted above the sand by crossbeams, balanced neatly. Nataliya, having lived near the shipyard for years, knew exactly what she was doing.

The thin tendrils of ice began to slowly thicken like crystal, growing by the minute to form the small hull and storage deck. By the time Nataliya lowered her hands, a small boat was bobbing in the eager tide; quite a dapper vessel-not large by any standard.

It was barely sizable enough to hold the pair of them and all of their supplies, and on top of that, it would be freezing, as it was made entirely of ice. Having clearly thought through their dilemma, they had realized that they didn't have the time or the energy to be creating a ship out of wood. They also realized that they would do better with a small vessel, as stealth would be their ally, and it would be harder for Nataliya to power a larger ship.

They laid down strips of wood on the deck to walk on, and filled a small corner below decks with furs and cloth as a bed.

Altogether, it wasn't a terrible arrangement.

The sun had set by now, and they turned to their fire, starting it up once again from the embers that were left the last time they banked it.

They would eat one last time on the island, then they would set off.

It was fish cooked with a bit of coconut meat, a flavor that Nikolai had apparently been inspired to try. They ate in what was mostly silence, watching their new ship waiting for them, preparing for the journey ahead.

In a way, Nataliya supposed, this was her final freedom. This was her, finally escaping the state that the Darkling had forced her into. She took a deep breath and strengthened her resolve. This was what she had been dying to do for years; get off of the island, get back to Ravka. To home.

She had a sudden idea.

Without a word, she went to a nearby trunk, and drew out a set of clothes. Nikolai, watching curiously, recognized it as the black set of pajamas that had once rested at the bottom of the pile.

The ones that she had come to the island in.

One of her last _real_ pieces of the Darkling.

She came back to the fire, and held it at arm's length, almost as though she was afraid to let it come closer.

For a long moment, she gazed at it, lost in thought.

 _Today I am free. You would be angry with me, Darkling. You'd always wanted me back before, and now that I come, you will not be there to greet me. I will not have to run any more. But I have Nikolai now. I do not need to fear you any longer._

Then, she took a deep breath, and smiled softly; an inside joke long forgotten.

The black clothes dropped into the fire.

Nikolai watched as it spurred on the flames; letting them climb higher for a moment while the cloth slowly melted into the coals.

He looked up to see Nataliya smiling warmly at him, with a glint in her eyes that hadn't been there before.

"I'm ready," she declared.

XXXXXXXX

 _So, another day, another chapter. Just another reminder that this is probably horrible and that I haven't really edited it, so a special thanks to YOU for bothering to read it. Thanks for readng and reviewing! xx_


	26. Open Sea

_"I sail the sea in search of gold,_

 _I sail the sea for treasures untold,_

 _I sail to find the old and lost,_

 _I sail, and I sail no matter the cost;_

 _With skies of blue and foam of white._

 _With depths deep where sun don' light_

 _I sail and I sail no matter the cost,_

 _The ocean's for me, there's no love lost."_

Life on their little boat was in no sense perfect, but there wasn't much wrong with it.

They had plenty of water, courtesy of Nataliya, and food as well, as she would capture fish and force them to the surface with currents to kill them quickly and then boil them in the water. An assortment of island fruits kept them from getting scurvy. They would man the boat all night and for all but six hours of daylight, keeping up a good pace. At night, Nataliya would summon water full of luminescent bone fish to the surface to cast a bright green glow which allowed them to read their instruments and keep to the right path.

It was hard work, but the course that they had plotted was long enough that they needn't work themselves to exhaustion _every_ night. They would often go for a swim to stretch their legs, and once, Nataliya even made a sort of slide out of ice for their amusement.

Aside from food and light, sometimes other fish would come near to the boat. One was an incredibly persistent shark that they dubbed Stanford, after a Zemini man that Nikolai had once met.

"Looks just like the poor old chap; bald with a nose larger than a blood-hound's."

They let him follow for a day or so, and Nataliya only pushed him away from their current when he started to eat their food.

"It's really a pity that people enjoy hunting them so much. They're much better to watch when they're alive."

Nikolai nodded and frowned a bit as he remembered one of his last times on open sea; hunting the sea whip with the Darkling and Alina, masquerading as Sturmhond.

He remembered the great sea beast before they had struck it down; a great power, unknowable, fierce and determined. The life of it was astounding, its mystery enthralling.

It was, as Nataliya always thought of it, the sea itself. It was deep and beautiful and full of so many secrets that it would be impossible to ever uncover nearly half of them. It was something Nikolai loved; the adventure and unknown at his fingertips, the world before him. The ocean too had a life in itself. Even now, when looking through the hull of their boat yielded only the deep blue of the water, the hint that a creature might be lurking below him made the world feel more alive and exciting. He missed that about his old life. He missed the days when he could climb up to the crow's nest and fly in the breeze, the steadiness of his ship below him, the days when he would awake every morning to the gentle rocking of the waves, and sleep to the same rhythm, better than his gilded cradle in the palace as a baby. He missed the salt in the air and the smiles of his crew. He missed the creak of the deck under his feet and the stars over his head every night. He _missed it._

In the palace, it was just another woe to ignore, just another wish that could never be granted. But here, it was acute, the sights and sounds and smells somehow reminding him of Tolya's poetry, or Tamar scolding him for it, or Privyet following him around, taking orders. Even of Mal and Alina on his last voyage, sparring or watching the sunset together. He'd known that they were in love even then. Just as he knew that he was in love with Nataliya now.

 _Why is love so hard?_

He thought next of Mal and Alina, the last time he's seen them in their new home. They were happy. He could see her heart in her smile every time she looked at Mal. He would watch every time that Alina wasn't paying attention as Mal looked at her like there would be no tomorrow. It had _pained_ him. He knew that Alina had never loved him. But now since she'd gone, no one even so much as pretended to. He'd left feeling much better about how his plans for Ravka were going, but with self-esteem as low as it could be. It wasn't about finding _someone._ It was about finding Nataliya, though he hadn't known her name at the time _._

And he _had._

 _So why the hell won't I just act?_ He wondered. Something continued to hold him back, a fear at the edge of his mind. It might have been rejection. He'd never been turned down before, but this was the most important thing that he'd ever wanted to ask. Constantly, he wondered if he was lacking in courage, or just simply still hiding behind the thought that he was putting his country first.

But Nataliya would be excellent for Ravka _._ His arguments were on their last legs.

Meanwhile, their journey continued.

The heat of day came at its worst when the sun was directly above, so that was when they usually slept. Although Nataliya was really the only one conditioned to keep going on with so little rest, Nikolai did his best to keep up. Still, she would let him sleep as often as she could, even though she missed the sound of his voice when he wasn't awake.

She didn't want it to end, but nearly halfway through the voyage, she couldn't help but think of the nearing finale and what would come afterwards. Nikolai would be swept away by royal duties, and she would become no more than another part of his entourage. And, that was if the best were to happen, if their plans went as they hoped for them to.

The water grew cooler the farther north they went, and although they didn't have a perfect compass, they could always find their way by the stars. Both were very familiar with astronomy, and even without a chart, Nataliya knew where almost everything was or was meant to be. There were an abundance of stars out over the open ocean, almost inviting her to join them. Sometimes, she would let the bone fish descend back into the deeps so that she could see it more clearly.

It was a map; a spider's web filled with dew, the eye of a great celestial traveler. She remembered something that the sea whip had told her long ago;

 _There are more stars than grains of sand in the whole world, and even the closest stars are farther apart than a grain of sand here, and one from the shores of what you call Novi Zem. If you were a star, and your true love were another, you would be so far away that you would never meet, never fall in love. So true love does not exist._

She had been young then. She had picked up two grains of sand in reply

 _But what if I was_ this _grain of sand, and my true love were this one, and we did meet and true love_ did _exist?_

It had made a noise near to sighing, one of its most regular sounds, and had told her:

 _If, against all odds, that would happen, then it would not last. It would slip away before you could blink. Compared to all the rest of time, the millions of ages and millennium, it would mean nothing ten, twenty, a hundred years later. Not to you and me, the only real immortal stone among grains of sand. Go to sleep, child, and remember the stars, for they will be your constant companions, for longer than any that you might find beloved._

It, of course, had been right. Even now, if she and Nikolai were those two small grains in her palm, they would never meet to find true love. And if they did, it would all be over before they would make it back to the palace, when she sacrificed herself on the sands of the Vy to undo the damage of the Unsea. He would be even more heartbroken if they were to grow closer now.

She was protecting him.

She needed to remember the stars, as she had for all of these far too many years, because even when she was gone and shortly forgotten, they would be there, and perhaps they could still be a companion for another lost little immortal girl.

Or perhaps even for Nikolai Lantsov.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _Well, I wrote half of this chapter just now while watching a movie, so goodness knows it it even makes any sense. I'm one of those people who is kinda just like KISS ALREADY DAMN IT (*cough *cough Kaz and Inej*cough*cough*) Sorry, frog in my throat there. And writing this is KILLING ME BECAUSE I JUST WANT THEM TO BE TOGETHER ALREADY. and i dont want to spoil whats going to happen, but it is worth all of this anger because of all the FEELS that it will lead to. (or at least i hope it will. i haven't actually written it yet). But anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing! I appreciate every one of you! xx_


	27. Sankt Nikolai

"That one is a lion."

They were laying down on furs on the cold deck of their ship, watching clouds rolling by overhead in the early morning sky as they took shapes in their minds.

"What's a lion?" Nataliya asked, squinting.

"That cloud. Right there. See? The mane and the body-"

"Yes, I see the cloud, but what is a 'lion'? Do they all look like scruffy ruffians with a beard?"

Nikolai laughed to the point where he was nearly crying. Nataliya sat up indignantly, making him pause.

"Lions are in the cat family. Except they are much larger than any cat should be. The size of three men and loaded with teeth and claws. Sometimes I forget about your lack of proper schooling," he grinned.

"Is this beast real, or fictional? And don't laugh at me, it's _your_ country's fault that I haven't any proper schooling," Nataliya defended, half teasing.

"Of course. But it is _frighteningly_ easy to forget about learning gaps when speaking with a Saint," Nikolai replied.

"I keep telling you. I'm about as much a Saint as you are," she laughed.

"Then very holy indeed. Congratulations on your near-canonization," he dipped his chin in a mock bow as he replied.

"Actually, I think I _have_ already been canonized. And made the patron of several important things," she reminded, bragging lightly.

"Ah yes. Sea bound travelers. And yet, here we are." He gestured out into the open sea around them, rolling currents tossing the tips of waves into the air like miniature mountains, nothing but blue in sight.

"What are you the patron of then, highness?" She challenged.

"Ballroom dancing, privateering, killing sharks with knives, and eternal beauty," he confirmed smugly.

"Is that all?" She asked, bemused.

"Did I mention the ballroom dancing? Because that is truly a marvel in itself." His eyes were alight in the sun, as though a passion of his had truly been brought up. Or in the very least a memory.

"Really? It must be, if you're so willing to brag about it."

"Care for a lesson?" He asked, offering her his hand.

"More than I'd like to."

She smiled shyly, and it only encouraged Nikolai more.

"Well there's no music, but I daresay that no one else will be here to judge, aside from the fishes."

He stood and brushed off his clothes, offering her a hand.

"May I have this dance?" He requested with a ridiculous accent.

"Why, of course you may, good sir," Nataliya replied, imitating a storybook that had once been read to her.

They gave a low bow, as was custom, and he gingerly took her hand and her waist, allowing her to do the same.

"Now, stand up straight, and follow my lead."

He led her gently across the deck, starting out with a simple waltz, going slowly as Nataliya watched his feet to find where to place her own. Soon she had the rhythm down.

"My, you do learn quickly, don't you?"

"I've heard that my teacher is the patron saint of ballroom dancing," she replied easily, smiling softly.

"Is that so? Then perhaps he should make it a little bit more challenging."

She laughed as the pace picked up and new movements were added.

The space of the deck suddenly seemed too small for them, and with only a slight mischievous grin as warning, Nikolai led the pair of them over the water.

Nataliya's power supported them as they literally danced over the waves, still picking up the pace.

The ocean around them was suddenly a grand ballroom to the pair of them, the sun glinting off the crests of waves becoming a grand chandelier, and the deep clouds above suddenly a palatial ceiling. Nikolai hummed a tune softly under his breath while they danced.

She knew it well. Her mother had loved Ravkan music, and what he hummed was one of her old favorites, a composer whose works were deep and true, his intended message clear through only music. She hummed it along as well, surprising Nikolai.

"Don't tell me that this is getting too easy for you," he taunted.

"Then I won't tell you. But it is."

"Then what kind of a saint am I? Mediocre at best."

As the song itself began to move faster, the pair of them did too, feet beating the ocean in time with the music.

Nataliya no longer felt she was herself in a ragged tunic and trousers, but instead a princess of a fairy story, in a gown woven of silk with her hair pinned up with jewels.

They continued on, and Nikolai realized that here, in the bright sun with this girl, he could forget his dark past of tragedy, and truly live in the moment.

The song came to a dramatic end, and they finished by drawing in to each other, gazing up into their eyes.

 _This would be the moment in the stories that we would kiss,_ Nataliya realized.

 _This would be the moment when we would finally act upon our love, to defy our responsibilities and seal this bond._

But neither one of them moved.

 _Now or never._

They felt each other's hands, their scars, as though they were their only anchors to reality.

They would not kiss.

Because they didn't need to.

He loved her.

She loved him.

They both knew it.

And they both knew that the other would not act upon it.

Nikolai drew back and gave a final bow as she curtsied.

"I'd expect that the fishes are duly impressed, Sankt Nikolai," she complimented.

"A dancer is only as good as their partner," he replied in turn.

They walked back to the boat and returned to their cloud-watching positions.

"That was hardly a challenge, Nikolai. If all court life is so basic, then I suspect that you've merely been jesting this whole time," she airily teased, once again finding the lion cloud, still unmoved despite that what felt like an eternity had passed.

"Ah-ha, but you haven't heard learned about the ranking of nobility. It will confuse even you, I assure," he replied, immediately launching into a long history of nobility and social classes and other terrible words that made Nataliya's head hurt for nearly an hour to come. When Nikolai finally came up for air, Nataliya stopped him.

"Is _all_ court deportment so complex?"

"Yes, choosing which fork to use during which meal is also _incredibly_ sophisticated," he replied sarcastically, unable to hide a grin.

"Could you teach me? Just a bit at least? We do have quite a bit of time to kill."

"It would be my honor. By the time I'm through with you, no one will be able to tell that you aren't a born noble. All you have to do is pout a bit more and bat your eyelashes at all of the eligible bachelors."

"Very funny. I don't think I'm quite the eyelash batting type, though," she frowned.

"Well then. All jokes aside, you already have excellent posture and mannerisms," he complimented.

"I am, however lacking of knowledge of silverware, so _do_ enlighten me. And please speak Ravkan this time around. Explaining the nobility sounded like it might have been Fjerdian to me," she requested.

He laughed.

" _Then maybe that's how I can tell you that I love you,_ " Nikolai responded in a glib sailor's Fjerdian.

She had no idea what he said.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _SO i'm nearing the end of what I have ready to post (i cry), so tomorrow or the next day might be the last one. We'll see. Thank you so much for reading adn reviewing so far, and for sticking with me for so long! xx_


	28. Aleksander

As the voyage continued, Nataliya's strange string of dreams did too. They were not consistent in the sense of length or subject, nor did they occur every night, but they left her with something to be thinking about for quite some time after they occurred.

She awakes one night in one such dream lying in an old wooden bed, facing upward to a thatched roof with her mouth full of wood.

She is in an incredible, unfamiliar pain, screaming and clenching her teeth, panicked with nerves and feeling her tiredness as though the weight of the whole world is upon her.

Her dark hair sticks to the pillow behind her with sweat, and she is nearly unconscious. A few moments later she blacks out.

When she returns, she is in the same place, feeling more tired, but strangely... Empty.

Another woman, a girl, really, dabs a cool cloth onto her forehead.

"Mother says the baby will live. He is a boy. You are lucky to have found us when you did. She is a Healer, you know, and she will help him to stay alive through the night. You should have stayed in the _otkazat'sya_ village for the delivery. But it all turned out all right, I suppose."

 _Please,_ she requests, her voice weary, ignoring the criticism. _May I see him?_

The girl turns towards the far side of the room, split by a curtain.

"I will talk to my mother. "

A few moments later, the baby is brought forth by the Healer who served a midwife. The infant is wrapped up tightly in cloth, only showing his tiny face and a small puff of hair as black as pitch.

Nataliya reaches up and takes him in her arms, smiling softly at his quiet cooing.

"He is one of the prettiest babies that I have helped to deliver," the Midwife compliments.

The new mother does not respond.

"If you don't mind my asking, dear, where is his father?"

 _He is dead,_ Nataliya replies without thought, thinking that if he is not already that he will be in the blink of an eye. Dust in the wind.

She does not know now what a mantra this statement will become for her son.

"A shame. Life is hard for a single mother in these days," the Midwife says knowingly, glancing at her own daughter. "I'll leave you two alone for a few minutes while I make something to eat."

Nataliya stares lovingly at the baby, watching as she sees its eyes open for the first time, a surreal shade of grey.

This was her legacy, still so small as to fit in her arms, yet someday to grow to the size of the world.

The healer's daughter approaches carefully and waits until Nataliya looks up to ask her question.

"What will you name him?" She asks.

Nataliya has already planned for the reply.

 _Aleksander._

 _Xx_

She shot up, Nikolai next to her, looking up at the stars as though he too could not sleep.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, I... I've just been having strange dreams lately," she summarized, her heart still racing, wondering whose dreams she was seeing, and why they meant so much.

"Stranger than usual?"

"Oh _yes_ ," she replied strongly enough to take him aback.

He sat up to her level.

"You know, one of my tutors was a Suli man who claimed that dreams are predictions of the future," Nikolai thought aloud.

"Somehow I doubt it," Nataliya skeptically replied.

"How so?"

"These don't feel like mine. It's like I'm looking at parts of someone else's life. A long time ago," she explained.

"What's so strange about that? I often have dreams that I'm the son of a wealthy carpet merchant in Shu Han who wants to run away and become a fire eater for the circus," Nikolai related. _That is, when I don't dream of eating people,_ he thought.

"Really?"

"Really. And _sometimes,_ when my father the carpet merchant catches me out and about, not minding our carpet stand, he forces me to marry my own cousins," he replied comically.

Nataliya laughed.

"Well, then, you should hope that your old tutor was wrong, or else begin practicing your fire eating skills."

"I intend to. When I was young I was quite the pyromaniac. It was stunning. But what about these dreams of yours? They must be troubling you," he asked carefully.

"They are. They seem so eerily realistic. Tonight I dreamed of having a child, could feel it inside me, the heartbeat and kicking and then the pain of the delivery, but I've never even been pregnant never even-well, but how should I know what it would feel like?"

"I certainly wouldn't know. Do you like children?"

"I love them."

"Well, that somewhat disproves my theory then. It would have made sense if that was a fear of yours," he explained.

"I don't know. But it was just a dream, after all," she rectified, sorry to make him worried.

"That _is_ true. Why don't you try to get back to sleep? We still have quite a ways ahead."

"All right. But only if you do too."

"Deal."

Although Nikolai's breathing eventually slowed, Nataliya couldn't manage to fall back to sleep and instead ran the name of the baby through her head.

 _Aleksander._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _YES, so I lied about this being the last chapter in the marathon post, so YAY, but meanwhile, this chapter is dealing with a bit of business that will eventually be important. Yes, Nataliya is dreaming that she is Lena, or Baghara, or whatever Morozova's daughter or the Darkling's mom's real name is. Yes, it is important. But, no, she does not know it yet. But anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing, and i'll see you tomorrow!_


	29. That's the Kvas Talking

"Would you sit _still_ for Saint's sake!"

"I _am_ trying, I'll have you know. But the trouble is, this _is_ incredibly painful. And I've never been particularly good at sitting still besides."

"Oh, be quiet, I'm the one doing all the work. All you have to do is _stop moving_. Here I am with only a dull pair of scissors and a rusted ship's surgeon's kit trying to take your stitches out."

"And you're doing wonderfully, but might I suggest _not_ requesting the impossible of me?" His words were a little bit slurred and at a higher pitch than usual, probably due to the fact that their bottle of alcohol was already more than half empty.

" _Improbable._ Not impossible according to you. Just shut up and drink some more _kvas_ ," she instructed, pushing the bottle back toward him. He lifted it with his free arm and took a long swig.

He nearly spat it out when he'd finished, pushing it away from him and nearly spilling the rest of the bottle.

" _Saints_ I hate that stuff," he gagged.

"I do too," she replied, distracted. "Just not for the same reasons."

Nikolai cringed a bit. He'd been told the story of her brother, and although it was irrational, he still felt responsible for it. It may have happened years before he was even born, but how many families had been torn apart by the war? How many brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers had been sacrificed before he'd managed to end the bloodshed? It might not been his fault entirely, but as Ravka's king, he recognized that its history belonged to him just as much his own did.

"That's right," he replied, morose. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be _sorry._ It's not in any way your fault. Just sit _still_ before I have to knock you out."

"Are you having any?" He asked, feeling slightly groggy from drinking.

"No. It's hard enough doing this without being drunk."

"I've heard it helps in steadying the hand," he replied.

"It might, but I'm almost done, and I'm not willing to risk a hangover for you Lantsov." She gritted her teeth, taking out the last few stitches with a pair of thin pliers.

"Risking death, but not a hangover? Sounds to me like you need to sort out your priorities," Nikolai replied slowly.

"I have. Keep you not dead, get back to Ravka, and then keep you not dead. It would work much more easily if you weren't so intent on dying," she joked, cleaning off her tools with boiled salt water.

"So when we get back to Ravka, your priorities will revolve solely on me then? Very appropriate. I approve," Nikolai affirmed, moving to the far end of the deck where there were furs out so he wouldn't have to lean against the ice.

 _"If_ we make it to Ravka. We still have nearly a whole day's journey. And I feel like a storm is coming," Nataliya warned, casting a weary glance to the sky.

"Been there, lived through that. And that was _without_ the most gifted Etherealki in the world," he boasted lazily, leaning back and taking a look at his arm.

Finishing with the tools, Nataliya didn't reply, instead putting them carefully away and returning to Nikolai's side with the bottle of _kvas._

"This is going to hurt," she warned.

"I'll be fine," Nikolai replied confidently.

She carefully poured the _kvas_ over where his stitches had been, and he let in a sharp breath and began cursing through clenched teeth.

"Are you still _fine_ , highness?" She teased.

"Yes," he winced. "Just a bit _less_ so."

"Mmm. I can see that. Just don't move for a few moments longer, and I'll get you bandaged up," she instructed.

When she'd wrapped his arm, she sat back next to him against the boat and took a swig of the remaining _kvas_. She made a face as she swallowed.

"Do people actually _like_ this stuff?" She wondered aloud.

"I think they all just pretend to be dramatic," Nikolai confirmed. Out here, it was like they were the only people left in the world, which made his statement all the more believable.

"Do I get to find out what sort of drunk you are tonight?" Nikolai asked, joking.

"No. But I can tell you're the type of drunk that wants to know," she replied. It made him laugh a little bit.

"That's not completely true. I'm the _fun_ sort of drunk apparently. My crew used to try to get me to drink with them all the time. I had to give it up after a while, when I almost _died_ ," he surmised, looking a bit dizzy.

"And how did _that_ happen?" She asked.

"I don't think that I should tell you that," he replied, nearly giggling.

"Captain's orders. You can't just say that and then not tell the story," she complained.

"Well, if the _captain_ wants to know, then by all means..." He paused to collect his thoughts, or perhaps to wait for the nauseous feeling to leave him, taking another swig of the remaining spirits. "Well. I was nearly a new captain. It was in my first year of privateering at least. We'd just stopped a Fjerdian vessel loaded with ammunition sailing in Ravkan waters. So, we broke out the _kvas_ , and celebrated. And it was then that Privyet discovered my weakness," he paused for dramatic effect.

"What was it?" Nataliya asked, looking over at him.

"I can't turn down a dare. Or couldn't at least. Saints know that I've figured out how by now. But back then, they dared me to do everything. Climb up to the crow's nest in the dark when I could barely walk. Try harpooning a target from the far end of the deck. Launching silverware out of cannons. I was the champion of all the drinking games and competitions that they could think of. The absolute _life_ of the party. And, it wasn't even that they let me win," he boasted, recalling good times.

"And why did you stop?" Nataliya questioned, smiling.

"Well I fell overboard, actually," he frowned. "Up north in the middle of winter. Sobered me up pretty quick."

She laughed outright this time.

"You mock my pain," he pouted.

"I mock _you_ , highness. And anyone who doesn't is missing out," she grinned.

"Okay, Sankta. But I'm still a better drunk than you are right now, so you're the one that deserves mocking," he accused.

"Nikolai, I'm _not_ drunk," Nataliya informed him once again.

"Oh. I forgot. Is it because you're the one steering the ship? Because I've done that one before too. I let the helmsman join in the fun, and we ended up almost crashing into Ketterdam."

"Yes, among other reasons. Are you sure that you're all right? You look dizzy," she asked concerned.

"Yes. I'm fine. Not _fine_ fine, but not as not fine as I was before I wasn't fine."

"Do you know that you're not making any sense?" She asked, mostly unconcerned.

"Yes, I'm sure of it. I always make sense. Or at least it's everyone else's job to pretend that I do. I'm fine in fact. More fine than I was before I wasn't fine. Are you fine too?" He asked.

"Yes, I'm all right," she replied, trying not to laugh.

"I'm fine too," he confirmed with a nod.

"Good," she smiled.

"Yes, I am," he announced.

"I know," she replied, rolling her eyes at him.

"I know you know," he affirmed.

"Is that what you know?" She asked, playing along further.

"Ah-HA. See. Now I've got you. Persuaded into acting drunk by my intoxicated charm. One point for me," he grinned, closing his eyes and leaning back.

It was nighttime, and the light was low, as Nataliya hadn't been paying attention and had allowed the bonefish illumination to slip a bit farther.

It appeared that Nikolai was rather sleepy, and he didn't open his eyes again, though he kept talking.

"Did you ever think about how many people must have _tsfil_?" Ha asked randomly. Nataliya was surprised for a moment that _this_ was what he randomly thought about.

"Not really. I don't have it, so I haven't really thought about it," she replied.

"Me neither," he rectified quickly. "It must be a whole lot though. And it'll only get worse."

"You should do something about it. You know. As king."

"Probably. I'll bring it up next time I'm in the court. They'd _looooove_ to hear about it," he giggled. Nataliya joined him. What she'd learned of court was that it was incredibly conservative, and the thought of bringing up a plan of action against _tsfil_ would be a bit like committing social suicide. There was a lull in conversation.

"Where did you learn to sing?" He asked, quietly, a little while later.

"I taught myself," she replied. "Why?"

"Your voice is so lovely. I've heard the Ravkan national choir. Along with pretty much all the other ones in the world. I mean, I _am_ the king. But your voice is just _so_ much better," he complimented, slurring his speech rather dangerously.

"Thank you, but I don't think you're really an impartial judge," she replied.

"I'm don't even need to pretend to be. I am, in case you forgot, the King of Ravka, so my opinion usually counts anyway. You should come back to Os Alta to join the choir."

"Nikolai, I'm not going back to the capitol just to join the choir," Nataliya explained.

"No? I need all of the special singers that I can get. I can even offer you a job as choir director if you like. I can do that. I'm the King," he reminded.

"'Special singers'? Shut up and go to sleep, Nikolai, before you offer me a job as a special dancer too," Nataliya teased.

"I didn't know _that_ was an option. I'll keep it in mind," he joked. She rolled her eyes again.

Silence took over on the ship for a few minutes before Nikolai spoke again.

"Nataliya?" He asked quietly, half asleep.

"Hmm?"

"Will you sing me a song? I like to fall asleep to your singing," Nikolai requested softly. It wasn't something he'd've asked normally, but she found it endearing.

"Of course," she replied.

 _"He who was born from the sea, he fell in love forever, with a white mast on the road ahead, the stars above to make his bed..."_

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _SO yeah, here's a bit a few more chapters until they make landfall I think. the lat line is a little bit of a real Russin sailor's tne, but then I had to add a bit on the end because I closed the translation and was too lazy to find it again. Oops. Thaks for reading and reviewing! See you soon! xx_


	30. Stormy Seas

From the time that Nataliya was barely old enough to talk, she'd counted lightning.

Each precious second between the staggering flashes was another few minutes that her family would have before the storm was fully upon them.

Storms, when Nataliya lived by the sea, were not to be taken lightly. The water level had risen to her doorstep several times, and had flooded their entire downstairs once. When it was in the proper season, the weather in Os Kervo could turn on a dime, from sun to typhoon with almost no warning.

The worst that she'd ever seen it was one of the summers when her father had been away, before the draft age was lowered, while her brother was still young.

XXXXXX

They'd all waited in anxiety, huddled into the center of the house, away from windows and doors. They all gathered together on a pile of furs, listening to the sound of shattered glass, and the whistle of wind. They could barely see the lightning, but when they did, the thunder followed it by only a half a second.

Not long enough to count.

Nataliya remembered her youngest sister, Katrina, shaking quietly in her arms.

Eventually, the thunder became lazier, giving Nataliya more time for counting.

 _One. Two-_

CRASH.

Then another flash.

 _One. Two. Three. F-_

BANG.

They all counted together out loud so even the littlest girl could learn her numbers.

Soon, however, a new sound took the thunder's place as the persistent crashes faded slowly into rumbles, the sighs of a giant.

However loud the thunder might've been, this new sound was much worse; a _scraping_ rushing, frothing noise, one that could've been the same giant choking, _drowning_. It was the sound of the sea and shore, but it was coming from below them, from far too near to be the water's edge.

"Madraya, what is _that_?" Katrina had asked, perking up to the noise after a while.

Nataliya's mother was not the type to have to _try_ to sound fearless. Her confidence and wisdom came as naturally as her love did, and her answer to the three year old was simple.

"It is the ocean in our living room. Every so often, the sea will try to take what it wants from us. It has filled up our kitchen and the bedrooms downstairs. But your father is much too smart to allow it to steal what we have worked so hard for. He built our house out of stone, and so far away from the shore that the ocean cannot possibly dream of taking it back. He built us these upstairs rooms so that the sea cannot even try to touch us."

"But mamma," Sofiya, the middle daughter had questioned. "What about papa? He isn't here now to save us if the sea _does_ come too close."

"Papa is saving us from a different kind of danger. He fights for our country so that someday, we can live without watching the horizon for a Shu or Ferjdan invasion fleet."

It was something that they recognized definitively. The neighbors always whispered in hushed tones about what ships had been spotted where, how a blockade would be formed soon to cut off Ravkan supply lines. How it would mean the loss of sugar to make sweet cakes, which was something that even the children understood would not be a good thing.

So, a weary glance was saved for the horizon every morning when dawn brought the first light and every evening when night took it away.

They were used to the war as a veteran was used to a lost limb; they would never in their life know the feeling of being whole as they had when they were young and naive enough to believe in a thing as childish as security.

"But Madraya, why does papa have to stay away for so _long_? Why can't he come home to us?" Nataliya had asked. She was young at the time, and hadn't yet met the sea whip. She knew her power, but followed her parents' strict order to keep it a secret.

"He'll come home when he can, love."

"I miss him, momma," the littlest one crowed, hugging their mother.

"I know. I miss him too. But cheer up. No matter where he is, or how long he's gone, he'll _always_ come back to us."

" _Mother_ ," Nataliya's brother had begun, exasperated. "You _know_ ,-". He was stopped by a kick to the shin from their mother, who was still smothered in a group hug by the girls.

" _Yes_ , dear, I know that Papa will keep us in his prayers. We should do the same."

They waited out the storm patiently, and though it was only three days until the sun was once again shining, the watermarks on the walls of the house were left forever.

Nataliya remembered afterwards, how her mother had cornered her brother while she thought her daughters weren't looking.

"Pavlov, I _told_ you not to speak that way in front of your sisters."

Pav, as the family called him, was probably about thirteen at the time. He had always been the brooding, angry boy that he looked, with dark hair and deep brown eyes that left his expression constantly sullen.

"Mother, we can't lie to them forever. One of these days, we're going to get a letter, but it won't be from Papa. It will be from the army, sending their regrets, sending _condolences-_ " he practically spat the words, his formerly repressed distaste for the draft and the royal decrees clear.

"I know, Pav. Don't think that because I'm optimistic that I'm _stupid_. And neither are they. Those girls are going to go their whole lives with the people they love dying in this saintsforsaken war. They're going to mourn your father, and perhaps you too, eventually. If they can't hold on to hope now, then they won't be able to when that time comes. They need to keep the faith in what we're fighting for, or else we've already lost."

Her mother's brown eyes shone in the light, fully devout to her words. She was a very motherly looking woman, brown hair and the same brown eyes Pav had. However, they made her look soft and kind, completely opposite the effect that they had upon her son. She had rough hands but delicate fingers, perfect for work around the house or for helping to sew new clothes for the family.

Nataliya used to think that her mother fashioned words the way that Materialki fashioned metal. They were quick and precise and the only person who'd ever dare argue with them was Pavlov.

"Why give them hope when it could be false? Why fill their heads with empty promises and lies?" He'd interrogated.

"I'm not. I'm giving them something to _remember_. Their mother's faith in them. My love. I can give it to you too," she offered. He sighed.

"All right, Madraya. What is it?" He relented, recognizing that it would be useless to argue further.

"Look at the horizon," she'd instructed. The sun was setting over the ocean, churning waves as far as the eye could see, while the ocean slowly receded. "When you look out over the ocean, when storm clouds are over your head and you have nothing left in the world, think of me. I love you. I believe in you. And I pray that someday, the saints will guide you to find your true love, just as I have found your father, and that you will keep faith in them as I do in him. I hope that you will remember me in your storms, and that you will always, _always_ , remain hopeful."

XXXXXX

Nataliya was now experiencing a storm even worse than any that her mother could have expected, in more ways than one.

It hit them the next day, when Nikolai had somehow awoken without even a headache, despite the empty bottle of _kvas_ left over from the night before.

The wind had set in quickly, and within the hour, had gained speed; dark, low clouds hanging on the horizon. The giant sighing once again, as thunder blurred around the edges of their hearing.

Since their hold belowdecks was filled to the brim with stores and freezing cold besides, they stayed out on the main deck with Nataliya summoning the rain as it fell to avoid hitting them.

"That's an excellent trick," Nikolai prompted.

The sky grumbled in response.

"Until we get struck by lightning and die," she replied grimly, reminded of ships that had come into the harbor near her home with splintered masts or scorched rigging, needing repairs and trading stories of people who'd been caught in the crossfire. Though their ship couldn't have been more than twenty feet above the water's surface, it was still the tallest thing in the ocean for miles.

The wind suddenly rose around them, turning into a howling gale and threatening their makeshift sail until Nataliya hastily wrapped it around the short mast.

"We won't. We're not terribly tall, and-" a resounding crack of thunder from what sounded like straight above them interrupted Nikolai. They reflexively ducked their heads.

As per usual, when Nikolai popped back up, he had a witty response.

"Well. It appears as though the Saints are out to prove me wrong tonight," he called over blustering winds.

"Aren't they _always_?" Nataliya called back.

"No, usually they just smile and nod in approval," he replied, the end of his sentence drowned out by the crash of waves against the side of the ship. The sky flashed above once again.

The storm set in quickly, and it was as though a giant and unruly child had taken to shaking their small boat up and down like a toy.

They continued huddling under the dome of rain, As the movement of the ship turned violent, and they were again reminded that it was only by Nataliya's power that they hadn't drowned ten times over already.

"Hang on!" She yelled, making sure to be heard over the din; the slam of rain on the ocean, the howl of wind and the crash of thunder making a boisterous symphony of discord.

"What do you _think_ I've been doing for the past hour?!" He complained.

Nataliya raised her hands.

Suddenly, the rocking went still as the surface of the whole ocean stopped. Waves were paused mid-crash, and even the drops of rain around them suspended in the air. Nataliya's hands shook with the effort of it.

The sky rumbled overhead, but the rest of the noise was startlingly absent.

" _Saints_ ," Nikolai marveled. He'd been stuck in storms over open ocean before, and never had he even so much as _imagined_ that they could stop like this. He felt as though time itself had frozen around him, as their ship slowly settled down out of the crest of a large wave that it had been in the middle of, forming a large ring of peace around their ship.

Outside of their circle that was maybe a half mile wide, the storm continued, tossing up waves taller than the Little palace back home.

"There's still the lightning. What should I do about that?" She asked, clearly desperate for an answer, casting a weary eye to the sky where electricity arced through the clouds.

"Hmmm. Can you reach high enough to dispel the clouds?"

She dropped the rain, and it fell in a great crash, while she reached her right hand up as far as it would go.

"I can, but _barely_. Let me try…"

She began to start moving her outstretched hand in slow circles. Nikolai watched in awe as the cloud began to churn in turmoil.

Slowly, a patch of blue sky formed, growing bigger as a new eye opened in the hurricane. The rain stopped falling around them, as the circle grew to the size of their little patch of sea.

The thunder sounded farther off, a giant in retreat, and the lightning no longer loomed overhead. The charge in the air was gone.

"I've never done this before," Nataliya realized.

"Just goes to show what a bit of genius in your hands can do," Nikolai replied, hooking his thumbs in his pockets and looking out over the open ocean.

Behind him Nataliya held her position, arms no longer shaking, still rotating her wrist as the sky moved. He turned back to her.

"Can't you stop?" he asked, curiously.

"No. I keep my focus through position. I move, and something will change. That's just how my summoning works," she replied.

"Ouch," he sympathized.

"Tell me about it."

He looked back up at the sky. The circle was no longer expanding, but the swirl of the clouds could be seen as far as the horizon

"Do me a favor. Stop moving your hand for a minute."

She looked at him dubiously. "Nikolai-"

"Just trust me. Knowing what I do about atmospheric pressure, and centrifugal forces, applied to this gravimetric anomaly-"

"All right. All right. _Saints_ ," she relented. She dropped her hand.

The eye of the storm stayed, and continued its swirling motion.

"It _worked_!" She exclaimed, surprised.

"Of course it did. I know what I'm talking about," he replied, clearly surprised himself.

"No you don't. You made up at least half of those words," she accused.

" _That_ doesn't mean that I don't know what I'm talking about."

"Ah- _ha_! So you confess!" She exclaimed.

"It is a king's duty to sound competent in his position," he reasoned.

"Because talking about gravimetric anomalies is required to sound competent," she replied sarcastically.

"Never deign to deny," he grinned slyly. "It's one of the first things that you have to learn as royalty, really."

"I'd always thought it was all about looking pretty and sounding like a _snob_. I've never heard _that_ before," Nataliya replied, getting comfortable, still partially in her summoning pose for the long haul ahead.

"No? Well what about 'Get them to follow the small orders, and they'll follow the big ones too.'?."

"That's just common sense," she laughed.

There was a bit of a pause.

"Do you really think I sound like a snob?" Nikolai asked quietly a few moments later.

"No, Nikolai, don't be _stupid_. You sound like a genius. I was kidding," she laughed softly, mostly at his insecurities. A moment later, his chin was back up, and his trademark grin had returned.

"Of _course_ I sound like a genius. I _am_ a genius," he affirmed.

"I know. You just require more attention. That what makes you a _royal_ genius," Nataliya grinned.

"Never deign to deny."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _Long time, no see! So school is nearing its end and things so updates may be more frequent or maybe periodical or something that may signify that my life is no longer a mess (temporarily). It also might not. Whatever. So, the other project i've been working on is (as per a very helpful suggestion), putting this story on wattpad, because i'm actually a traitor to this site and saints, i've just realized how pretty the formating of those stories are. So, I'm figuring out how to work out that. I'll let you know when they're uploaded on there._

 _Thanks SO MUCH for reading and reviwing, and for tolerating my lack of editing. Thank you._

 _ps. He was lying about it being a gravimetric anomaly, in case anybody thinks that i just totally abused physics (because i did). I'm sorry, physics._


	31. Fairy Story

_Note: This chapter is named "Fairy Story", and aptly so, as it contians a large amount of information from a fairytale written by Leigh Bardugo to accompany the series, entitled, 'The Too-Clever Fox'. If you haven't read it yet, it's free online (google it), and will only take anout 15-20 minutes to read. Thanks again for dealing with all my crap (including the poor citations and lack of a link!) ~j._

* * *

"How long d'you think until the storm leaves?" Nikolai asked, an estimate for six hours on the tip of his tongue.

"Probably six hours. It's headed west. We're headed east," Nataliya explained. A few hours had already passed since they'd first quieted the storm, the ocean now barely loosing a ripple, even without Nat's help.

"And after that, how long until we make landfall?" Nikolai asked, looking quickly up at the stars to get their bearings.

"Probably about twelve hours," Nataliya guessed, doing the same.

"Good. I'll have time to rest in between," Nikolai replied, settling down with his legs crossed over the pile of furs.

" _You_? I'm here controlling the entire bloody ocean, and _you_ need rest?" Nataliya accused, scoffing a bit, her muscles acing from so much summoning, but still managing to hold half a grin on her lips.

"Yes. _If_ I'm going to be awake keeping you company the whole time, that is," Nikolai replied, laughing at her chagrin.

Nataliya, who'd only been kidding about keeping him awake was quick to argue against his idea.

"Nonsense. You've told me time and again that a king needs his beauty rest. Why risk losing it on me?"

"As much as I might need beauty rest, I _also_ need to live through this storm. And, let's face it; I'm already beautiful enough for the both of us. I hardly even _need_ beauty rest," he bragged. She tried not to laugh.

"All right, then. Just tell me a story. Something to take my mind away," she replied, lying down now, still careful to keep the ends of the storm entwined by the tips of her fingers.

They'd told each other what felt like endless stories over their time together, stories of his exploits as a prince and privateer. Of his life growing up around the world or in the palace. Of the unlikely friends he'd found in runaway Grisha and in the sun summoner and her companions. Next to his, she felt that her stories were small and much darker, but he claimed to enjoy them all the same. She could practically see his mind working on ways to fix the parts of her childhood that had been the most broken. Stories of her life in a small town, or her mysterious training from the sea itself. Stories of friends and family lost to the draft, of the near starvation among even the wealthier class of peasants. Of the horrors of the Wasting Plague.

They had become so immersed in one another's tales that they had nearly all been told, to the point that there were hardly any left between them that were unknown. Every time Nataliya lightly demanded another tale, Nikolai feared that he wo uld come up short of a response.

Nikolai had a sudden idea.

"There _is_ still one. A fairy story, really... Alina always said that it described me. But I always had trouble filling in the other characters... Perhaps you've heard it before? 'The Too Clever Fox'?"

"Many times," Nataliya replied, thinking of the last night before she'd been kidnapped and brought underground.

The same dropwort poison that'd been used to subdue the fox in the story had been used against her by the Darkling.

Not exactly a _fond_ memory.

Nikolai could hear it in the tone of her voice.

"Well, I can *guarantee that you haven't heard it the way _I_ tell it," Nikolai replied warmly. "And after I'm done, you can tell me whatever it is that you've just remembered and found incredibly disturbing. All right?"

"Deal."

"Fair enough," he cleared his throat, and Nataliya almost laughed a bit at him, poised and prepared to tell his story, like a poet in the old days, all attention raptly fixed upon his upcoming tale.

" _The first trap the fox escaped was his mother's jaws..."_

As the story continued, Nataliya laughed at all the right moments and gasped when appropriate, always keeping in mind how Nikolai was thought of as the too-clever-fox.

The resemblance was obvious.

She loved the cleverness and hidden kindness of both; the secret desire for kinship, for a sense of belonging. It made the story sadder for her, as she realized that the fox was ultimately to be betrayed by one who he'd trusted.

The way Nikolai told it was, in fact, not the way she'd ever heard tell of it before.

His version celebrated the fox as the cleverest animal of them all, instead of shaming him for it.

When she'd heard the story as a girl, it was the fox's cunning that got him *into traps as well as out of them, but here, the traps were things that had been designed by fate, nothing brought about by the fox's own ambition.

Nataliya liked Nikolai's version better.

She adored the way he told it too. His words were perfectly selected and emphasized, bringing about a feeling that the story was alive and among them. His repetition was excellent.

" _A_ lesser _creature might have despaired at such cruelty, but the fox saw vanity in his mother's carefully tended coat and snowy paws."_

Nataliya felt herself in the forest, about to be eaten by the snow-white mother fox, or being chased by hounds. She felt itchy as he described the pact made with the fleas in exchange for the fox's life.

She laughed at the first time he declared, "I am a magic fox!", while Nikolai's eyes lit up in mischief.

She found herself crying during the second time as the fox's story was near to its end, the small creature struggling to find a way out of his trap as the hunter's knife began to kill him. She'd gently allowed the storm to slip away, but had to keep consciously disband the clouds that she began to accidentially accumliate in her excitement.

Nikolai's voice got very low and morose during that part; his eyes large and mournful, appearing as though he was in pain himself, as the fox whispered his would-be dying words; _"I am a magic fox..."._

 _Saints_ , she felt it in her soul. He was alive before her, but just as much, she could see him lying on the forest floor, a fox in a patchy red coat, crying out with his last breath, betrayed and bleeding out.

The sun had set since he'd begun his story, and the waves had ebbed a bit.

Nataliya was exceptionally tired, and in the dark, she carefully leaned onto Nikolai, placing her head on his chest.

He faltered for a moment, his voice breaking as he described the life of the little fox fading away.

Then he continued, not knowing what else there was to do.

Even the hunter held remorse for the fox, for the life she had taken.

" _Your coat is sad and patchy. I will use it for a lining. I will keep it close to my heart."_

Nataliya reached out and placed a hand over Nikolai's heart.

It was steadfast and easy, slow enough to calm her; vibrant and alive enough to assure her of his safety, his _there-ness._

The story ended as Nataliya had never heard it end before, the nightingale swooping in to save the day, just before the fox died.

She'd never once in all her years heard of the fox and the bird living happily ever after before.

 _"...because the nightingale was not only clever. She was wise."_

He finished the story quietly, and eventually, her heartbeat slowed, in time with his.

There was an infinite space of silence as each waited for the other to fall asleep.

"So this is the last night, huh?" Nikolai asked simply after a while.

"Mmm hmmm," she confirmed.

"Saints," he swore softly. She couldn't read what kind of emotion was behind it.

Nataliya felt that there was something more to be said, something that she wanted to tell him before it was all over.

She struggled to figure out what it was.

"Nikolai?" Nataliya finally asked, a long moment later.

"Hmmm?" He responded, called back from sleep at the last moment.

"Thank you. For saving me."

"You saved me first, little nightingale. You saved me first."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _HELLOOOOO! Anybody out there? Alrighty, then, nice to see you all. I have written a literal ton of this, and only just realized that i'd not posted anything for a while, so I AM SO SORRY, but things have been crazy with work and practice and UGH, i just can't! Anyway, thanks for your patience with my unrefined writing abilities and such and lack of editing and ALL OF IT just thank you all for reading and for reviewing!_

 _In addition: remember how i told you forever ago that I was putting this on wattpad? Well I still am, but i decided that I was going to re-vamp the whole thing to spiffy it up, so its taking a little while. I'm also gonna add little excerpts from parts of the books to each of the beginnings of the chapters which takes forever, but makes it look sooooo nice omg. But anyway, thanks for your patience on that too! ~j._


	32. The Second Coming

The harbor of Os Kervo came into view early in the morning.

"Are you-" Both Nikolai and Nataliya began at the same time.

She laughed a bit, and he just grinned.

"I'll take that as a yes," he smiled.

"Aren't you worried?" She challenged, glancing heavenwards to see a grey sky summoned solely by her nerves.

"Not in the least. This isn't even the _worst_ thing I've ever done," he joked, cavalier as ever, ready to see some action.

"Then let's go."

XXXXXX

A maelstrom was brewing over Alkhem Bay and Os Kervo surrounding it, dark clouds scaring the sun aside and threatening snow.

People went about their daily lives, barely casting a spare glance upward. It was the time of year when storms were to be expected, the time when the weather was as capricious as it could be; when winds arose out of every direction, sometimes hinting at a warm summer, and other times threatening a long winter.

It was early morning, the fishermen heading to their boats and baiting their hooks.

Washer women were just filling their baths with water. The city was, as usual, a bustling metropolis, fit to burst with travelers and merchants, and wanderers of all shapes and sizes. All of the children had begun their morning chores, after a quick prayer to the Saints.

They were the first ones to notice when the humming started.

A sweet melody rang through the air, lovely beyond belief and calling, beckoning them to the harbor, in each and every ear, guided there carefully by the wind.

Soon the adults too noticed. They followed the children to the water as the noise grew louder and more lovely with each step.

XXXXXX

A group of four sitting in a cafe took notice immediately, religious men and women, wearing long robes and draped with relics.

They rose and chattered excitedly for a moment, nervous, excited, perhaps thinking that this would be the return of the king, that they would be able to strike soon.

Their conspiracy was afoot.

They followed the crowd.

What they didn't see was the girl with moonlight-grey eyes following them.

XXXXXX

When the first of the crowd reached where they could see the water, they gasped.

The bay was still.

Waves frozen mid-crash, foam cresting the tips of whitecaps; all perfectly preserved as though in a painting.

The earliest fishermen were already out in the harbor, standing in their boats and yelling, waving their arms.

One tried stepping out over the still water and fell in as though it was normal. He climbed out and shivered in his boots.

A strange thing, indeed.

XXXXXX

Nearly the whole city gathered at the harbor, vying for a place where they could see what was happening.

Watching.

 _Waiting._

Whispers ran rampant through the streets.

"This is the work of Saints. It has to be," one of the religious fanatics whispered reverently.

"Is something going wrong?" A fisherman's wife asked nervously to a nearby baker.

"Are we in danger, mother?" A young child asked.

"A blessing on the city. That's what it is," assured the baker, soothing the mother and child.

An old shopkeeper heard them and voiced his own opinion.

"No. A curse. Dark times returning to Ravka. The return of the beast. He can not be killed. You cannot kill a demon who is in your soul-"

Without warning, the singing stopped abruptly, the crowd suddenly silencing, holding its breath, not quite daring to move.

A lone wave dramatically rose in the harbor, as tall as the great lighthouse-taller, pushing all of the fisherman's boats closer to shore.

The sky parted to a blinding blue, and thunder and lighting struck from nowhere.

" _Fear me not, my children_."

The voice was that of a woman, full of grace and love and an unidentifiable ancientness.

As the wave faded away, dying before it kissed the shore, an enormous face rose from the ocean, as tall as the wave had previously been.

It was a striking woman, water flowing gently behind her. She was beautiful beyond anything that they had seen, flawless skin and perfectly set eyes.

A trick of the light made her hair appear dark, and her gaze was that of a mother, looking lovingly down at an infant in the cradle. At her beloved city.

The crowd gasped in awe.

" _You know me as Sankta Inna, and it is for you that I now appear."_

The crowd looked on in reverence and many genuflected, some weeping or exclaiming in joy. Priests began chanting, and children and elders alike watched with wide eyes, worried that if they so much as blinked that they might miss something.

Faith in the Saints had been declining in Ravka, as people began to wonder just how many of their miracles were really the work of Grisha.

But this could not be a charade.

This was much too large to be the work of any Summoner.

To the city, it was too powerful, too real, to be the work of any other than the Holy One herself.

Surely, this was a miracle.

XXXXXX

Behind the figure, where none could see them were Nataliya, Nikolai, and Vladmir, one of Nikolai's Squallers.

Nataliya held up their illusion and spoke in her Saint voice, and the Squaller amplified her message (and previously her singing) through the whole city, with the help of a hidden force of Nikolai's other men.

Nataliya moved the mouth of the figure to match her own, making it convincingly alive with one hand, while helping to amplify the Squaller's summoning power with the other.

" _Before I leave you my gift and blessing, there is something that I must do. I have spent many years hidden away in the sea, keeping touch only with those on my most sacrosanct island, those who had dedicated their lives to my cause and were loyal to me. They were a peaceful people; men and women who I chose to love above all else. They were attacked and murdered in cold blood._ Pirates _."_

She paused for dramatic effect, Nikolai nodding in approval.

 _"I was too late to save all but one. When I set out to avenge this slight to my name, I delivered justice swiftly. But, among their prisoners I found one man. A man who you all know well. He was your king."_

I rustle swept up from the crowd, one of unease.

The people loved King Nikolai.

But what was he doing in a pirate's hold?

"Why did she say _was_?" Some asked.

"What happened to him?" Questioned others.

As though to answer their questions, with a great roar, the heart of the giant ocean-woman split in two, and through the center walked Nataliya, helping an acting Nikolai to limp forward on the surface of the water.

The nearest viewers were still too far away to see that Nataliya was the one speaking, but she was careful, doing so without moving her lips, which she found was the most challenging part of the ordeal, despite the gargantuan puppet she was controlling.

" _When I freed Nikolai Lantsov, he had nearly passed on. I have lived a long life and I have been given power from heaven above to soften the scrutiny of death. I have deemed your king worthy, and saved him so that he may lead you to prosperity, you, my good people, my blessed followers. He is truly in my favor, and under my protection. Know that to harm him is to invoke my wrath."_

The four conspirators in the audience were especially silent as they pondered their quandary.

They were taken by surprise when they were silently seized and dragged away to be arrested, while the rest of the crowd's attention was fixed on the Saint's appearance.

" _I come with one further gift for you_ ," Sankta Inna announced.

"This city has become my own beloved as you have loved me all of these long years. So to you and to Ravka, I leave the last of my followers, my own child and legacy for you to have and to keep. Hold her in your hearts and prayers, and remember me always, for I now must depart," she preached, lifting a watery hand to gesture to Nataliya, who bowed her head.

Many people cried out in despair. Most were still too shocked to move, while still others wept or looked on, longing for her to stay.

 _"I bless you, Os Kervo, and Ravka! For so long as you hold faith in your Saints and your king, you shall stand the long test of time and persevere unscathed. Farewell my children, and heed my words. I have done this for you, Ravka."_

With that, the figure slowly lowered back into the ocean.

The bay behind Nataliya and Nikolai began to return to its typical choppiness, and as they reached the shore, the all was restored.

It was a triumph.

XXXXXXXXXX

 _ **ARE YOU READY?**_

 _ **The next chapter has already been posted to my *new* WATTPAD with exclusive chapter openings on all of the beginnings of all of the chapters, and in celebration, I will continue with the chapter-releasing for a few more days-every day with the wattpad a day before here (as a lil bit of incentive to check out how much prettier it is over there ;)) LINK IN MY BIO (and it's the only story on there so you should be able to find it okay!) but seriously guys, sorry it took so long to get it going. And THANKS for putting up with me in general!**_

 _xxx_

 _OKAY HOW WAS THAT? Feel free to let me know! This was sort of the mystical bit, and the next chapter will be the more personal side, especially for Nat._

 _Thanks for reading and reviewing and recommending and for all of the above. Thanks guys!_


	33. Os Kervo

All eyes were on them as they reached land, carefully stepping up onto one of the docks with a discreetly summoned wave.

Nikolai paused to address them, and this time Nataliya saw another side of him; a weary but pleased warrior, a father returning from a trip bearing gifts for his children.

"I have returned. And, once again, I bring you hope. This is Nataliya, the chosen follower of Sankta Inna, and she will help me to undo the Darkling's work. She will soon begin, but I am still unwell and weary from my ordeal. Will anyone show us the way to City Hall?"

The crowd parted, kneeling as was proper, leaving a child standing forward in a low bow to guide them.

The crowd whispered as they passed.

" _Moi Tsar_."

My King. It was only expected, and Nikolai was sure to smile softly at each of his subjects, in love, or what was surely otherwise thanks.

He was transformed to Nataliya's eyes. Given an unlimited grace and energy, keeping to absolute perfection. She realized that the way she'd grown to know him was not how he normally acted.

She was distracted enough not to notice when a few fishermen stepped up to take her place in assisting the king. Nikolai graciously accepted their help with a light joke that made both of them laugh, and before she realized what was going on, Nikolai was no longer leaning on her, leaving her to feel suddenly empty and alone in the great mass of people.

She wasn't wholly nervous, perhaps more just shy.

Nikolai may have had his whole life to perfect first impressions and awe crowds with the snap of his fingers, but she had practically no experience at all.

Their plan had been to stick together until they reached city hall, where she would blend quickly into the background of his entourage, so she could merge quietly back into Ravkan life as the public forgot about her.

But now, she was surrounded by the crowd, and they were practically holding their breath, waiting for her to make this moment in their lives memorable.

Nataliya noticed a small girl at the very front, standing next to her kneeling mother.

She took a deep breath and decided to approach the little girl.

When she neared, the child stepped forward carefully, offering a flower. It was light blue, one of the wildflowers that grew nearly everywhere around the sea cliffs.

"Thank you," she accepted warmly. The little girl smiled shyly.

"I have a gift for you, too," Nataliya offered. She summoned water and froze it to make an icy version of the same delicate blossom. The little girl gasped in delight and accepted it with shaking hands.

"Sankta?" She asked, quietly excited, her blue eyes wide and her brown hair messily spilling from an embroidered scarf.

"No. I am no Saint. I am simply a child of the sea," Nataliya replied, smiling a bit at the truth of it all.

When it came down to it, the only thing that had been true and constant for her whole life had been the water, and it was truly her family.

" _Ditya morya_ ," the child's mother whispered reverently.

This was a new title.

 _Child of the Sea._

It was passed around the crowd quickly as they tested it on their lips approvingly. Nataliya was quite moved by it. She might have confessed that she wasn't a Saint, but Inna still was one. She herself was still a part of today's remarkable events, which somehow meant that she had earned a new name.

She was glad that they hadn't pursued the thought of her as a saint. From what she'd heard of Alina, it had grown far out of control, to the point that she had nearly died. Multiple times. And that was something that Nataliya didn't need.

The little girl was intently staring into the flower as it melted slowly in her hands.

"Tell me," Nataliya prompted as the little girl smiled. "What is your name?"

"Karina," the little girl replied.

 _So very near to Katrina. Looks like I can miss my little sister after all these years_ , Nataliya thought to herself.

"I love that name. Can you take me to the cathedral? I've always wanted to see inside," Nataliya requested, on a whim.

The little girl nodded, so Nataliya offered her hand and Karina took it, leading her off into the city.

She probably should've gone to city hall to meet Nikolai, but she figured that once she was there, she would be shuttered away from the people and the city, and she desperately wanted to see it.

It would be one of her last chances to see the world before her time came.

She could almost pretend, as Karina guided her and pointed out the sights, that she was with one of her little sisters all those years ago, and was finally allowed to visit the city with them.

Both of them had died before they could bring her away from the safety of their home, and in a way, Nataliya found that particularly fitting.

Because she soon was going to die too.

They would reach the Waste that had previously been the Shadow Fold soon, and there, she would sacrifice herself, use merzost, to take back what the Darkling had destroyed. Once and for all.

Karina continued babbling away as they toured the city.

"That's the market where Tabby works. He sells the best fish, and momma only buys them for special occasions... And on that corner is the pearl man. That's where poppa got the pearl for momma's ring. It came all the way from Ketterdam... There's the house where momma helps with the laundry... And there's poppa's work. He does accounts for the shipping captains..."

They walked through to the center of the city while Karina pointed out parts of her life happily, and Nataliya laughed and joked along, doing her best to take in the sights and be natural.

"There! That one's my house! The blue one in the middle! Poppa painted it that because it's my favorite color."

"Blue is my favorite color too!" Nataliya exclaimed, making the little girl laugh.

By now, Nataliya realized that they had quite a following, as much of the city had chosen to keep up with her instead of going back to their normal lives.

"Okay, here's the church. It holds a lotta people, so we can always share, and there's lotsa nice priests in there, all the time. The gold on the roof is shiny even when it storms! But the best part is being inside. It's big enough that it sounds like angels are singing. Momma says it's just an echo, but I like to pretend. It's so big and lovely that I can dream that it's the Palace."

Nataliya wholeheartedly agreed. The small seaside church that she'd rarely attended as a child was nothing compared to this monolithic cathedral, the great dome on top one of the wonders of the city, topped with an angel.

She carefully entered and let Karina show her around, her voice bouncing brightly, echoing through the tall dome. A massive mural of Sankta Inna blanketed one wall, and candles were lit everywhere, the smell of incense and ancientness enveloping the crowd.

A priest that looked nearly as elderly as the building itself waited near the altar.

"Do you wish for us to hold a mass to celebrate your arrival?" He asked generously.

She recognized that he had been in the crowd in the harbor and therefore must know her story, perhaps expecting her to be a devout follower of Inna.

Nataliya had never had a mass in her name before, and nearly the whole city had followed her into the cathedral.

She remembered Nikolai saying something about a decrease in faith, which was creating tension between the church and the crown. She made a snap decision.

"Please do. I haven't known a mass besides the service to Inna in a long time, and I would love to be a guest in your beautiful cathedral for a little while longer."

The man obliged.

The crowd filed into seats, with Nataliya and Karina in the front.

The mass began promptly, but Nataliya was more concerned about the eyes of the thousands of people who lived in the city, all watching her with utmost rapture.

She had unintentionally become the center of their day.

She figured that Nikolai would've been proud.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _OKAY so i swear I didn't mean to disappear for four months. I am so sorry. Im back now though, so hopefully i will be a little more regular. Also i can guarantee that i will be on wattpad more than i am on here so theres that. My wattpad is beeshavenonames since fanfiction wont let me post links. Sorry to advertise. Thanks for reading and reviewing! Xx~j._


End file.
